Dragonflies
by 22blue
Summary: She's a single mom who lives & works w/her dad. It's safe, secure. But sometimes security isn't all that it's cracked up to be and you need to open your heart a little. He should probably do the same. Fluff/UST/AH Alternating ExBPOV Rated M
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: As usual, I don't own Twilight. **

**Yep, I started a new fic, and no, it's not lemon centric. ****Oddly enough, the idea spawned from a dragonfly landing on my knee one day when I was sitting on my deck, enjoying the sun. It's kind of strange where the mind takes you sometimes.**

**Thank you to my beta Askthemagic8ball and prereaders sncmom and coldplaywhore. Also thanks to Bri for taking a gander at this puppy too. Cereulean Blue is going to be my go to girl for all things in the Florida Keys.**

**/*/*/*/**

"What's wrong, Abby?" I say, holding up my chin a little because my mouth is full of toothpaste.

Abby is holding her toothbrush in front of her, a thick, blue line of paste sits on top of the bristles as she stares at it. She's thinking. Her eyebrows are pulled together behind the dark frames of her glasses, and her lips are pursed, but she's pushing them more toward the right than the center. I can only imagine what she's going to say.

She never ceases to surprise me.

"If my toothpaste is watermelon flavor, why is it blue?"

Because she always has a valid point.

"And yours is minty and icy, and it should be white and it is, but watermelon is pink, so my paste should be pink."

I continue to brush my teeth, stalling for time in order to come up with a satisfactory answer to my seven year old daughter's question. If I leave an open ended answer, she'll ask another question, I'll answer, so on and so on – it's a never ending cycle.

I spit, rinse, then dry my mouth. "Probably because boys like watermelon, too, and might not want to use pink paste."

Abby looks up at me and pushes back her glasses. "Oh."

"Brush," I say and bend down to kiss the top of her head.

She brushes - a little too quickly – spits then rinses. Abby steps off her stool that like everything else that belongs to her has dragonflies painted on it and puts it under the sink. She's seven and should be able to reach the sink without a problem, but she's small for her age.

"Did you say goodnight to Grandpa?" I ask and flick off the bathroom light.

As I walk into her bedroom, Abby runs down the hall, into the family room, and I hear Charlie let out an "_Umph_" undoubtedly from Abby jumping on him.

On her nightstand, there's a picture in a white, wooden frame of her dad and me holding her when she was a baby. I wonder if she still remembers him.

I tell her stories of how we met one summer when he and some of his friends came down from Miami and reserved a charter with us and how he wouldn't leave me alone the entire trip until I agreed to go out on a date with him. Abby thinks it's hysterical that I'd only let him take me out if he caught a tarpon.

He didn't. We weren't in the right waters, but he didn't know that.

I went out with him anyway. He had the most gorgeous pale blue eyes, and I couldn't resist. He knew all he had to do was flash them at me once or twice, and I'd turn into a puddle of goo, but it was more than that. His eyes were kind and honest.

Abby looks just like him. She has the same dirty blonde hair, and her eyes squint when she's mad about something just like he used to do. Her chin is square like his, and I see him when she smiles. Abby would be a miniature version of her dad if she didn't have my brown eyes.

She thinks it's pretty cool that she was at our wedding, so to speak; I was a few months pregnant with her. I tell her she was there because her grandmother, Renee, couldn't be. That conversation led to a very long discussion about heaven.

I don't tell her how livid Charlie was when he found out Riley had gotten his twenty year old daughter pregnant. I remember reminding him that he and my mom were right around the same age when they had me. His point didn't hold much validity after that.

We would have gotten married anyway. Riley proposed on our fourth date. I didn't say yes, nor did I say yes to any of the countless times he proposed thereafter. He asked what it would take, and I told him if he caught a shark for me then, and only then, would I say yes. It became a running joke with us.

He caught a bonnethead, I said yes, and that was the night I got pregnant.

I don't tell Abby about all the plans Riley and I had either. It hurts too much to think about how I was going to finish my degree in nursing, and he was going to get his Masters in philosophy. He'd teach and I'd heal – that's what we used to say to each other. We were going to buy a small house on the beach, and I was going to paint the front door flamingo pink – he hated that color, but said he didn't care. "Whatever you want, baby," he'd said. Together we were going to teach Abby how to fish and look at the world with both openness and logic, and we'd love her and spoil her rotten.

I miss him.

Abby's happy though, she says she's glad we live with Grandpa; she likes his big, hairy mustache and his French toast.

We moved in with Charlie after Riley died on a dive four years ago. Riley had coronary artery disease. We didn't find out until after the autopsy.

"I'm ready!" she yells and flops on her bed.

"Okay!" I answer and find that I don't need to work to hard to force a smile watching Abby bounce up and down on her knees.

She crawls under the covers, and I remove her glasses then set them on her nightstand next to the picture of the three of us. Abby scoffs because she wants to read, and I tell her she needs to sleep because we're going to see Alice and Jack in the morning. It's late June so school is out for the summer, and she complains that she can't stay up later.

"You're not fishing with Grandpa tomorrow?"

I shake my head.

Charlie and Emmett are taking a group off the Atlantic side of Marathon Key for dolphin. I don't go with them to that spot.

"No, baby. I think Alice wants us to come help her and Jack bake cupcakes for Jasper's birthday."

Abby's eyes light up. "Uncle Jasper likes vanilla cake, and so do I."

"I know that." I smile and tuck her pink and green quilt with dragonfly patches around her. "Goodnight, Abigail Kathryn Swan Biers."

She laughs. "Goodnight, Isabella Marie Swan Biers."

"I love you, baby,"

"I love you, too, Mommy."

/*/*/*/

"You need to get laid," Alice tells me in a hushed voice. She's sitting across the table from me with her feet propped up on another chair. Abby and Jack are sitting at the other end of the table, shaking sprinkles on the cupcakes we've already frosted.

I roll my eyes at her.

She nods. "Don't you miss it?" Alice licks some of the icing off the butter knife she's using then puts it into her mouth, and as she pulls it out, her eyes dart toward Abby and Jack. When she sees they're not looking, she puts on her best porn face and moans.

"You're sick, you know that?" I laugh.

"Is it good, Mommy?" Jack asks her.

He's five, has shoulder length blond hair like his dad, and it pisses Alice off when people mistake him for a girl. It doesn't happen often, hardly ever really, but on the rare occasion it does, it's always a vacationer who's come into their dive shop. She refuses to cut his hair just on principle alone.

"It's very good, honey," she responds to Jack, her eyes widen because she knows she's been busted. Alice leans forward and whispers, "It's going to dry up and turn to dust if you don't use it."

I lean forward, too, and Alice and I are almost nose to nose. I want to say something sarcastic and funny like I normally would, but my mind is blank save the image of Riley's face that's popped into it unexpectedly.

Instead, I kiss her cheek and tell her Abby and I have to go and that we'll meet her tonight at Rudder's for Jasper's party.

She knows I'm not interested in dating, but she pushes anyway, suggesting I hook up with a random guy every now and then. She says if for no other reason, I should have sex just for the freedom of it all. Alice is a free spirit, and so is Jasper. They're not married. They say they don't need a piece of paper to show they're committed to each other. They're actually very perfect for one another. It's as if where Alice ends, Jasper begins. He claims she's the yin to his yang even though they're both so similar. It's all quite sickening in a sweet sort of way.

I'm busy with Abby and Charlie's charter business, and I'm happy about that. I don't want a relationship… I can't.

/*/*/*/

Abby and Jack are running around the back part of Rudder's between the bar and the tables. Liz, the owner, has blocked off the outdoor section for us. Abby adores Liz and Liz adores Abby; Liz treats Abby as if she were her granddaughter. The times Alice can't watch Abby while I'm on a trip with Charlie, Liz does.

Everything is casual: grayish wood floors, booths, and tables. There's a nautical themed bar, although pretty much everything has a nautical theme down here, and a perfect view of the Gulf. We've lowered the rolling blinds a third of the way to block the strong light coming in from the sunset. I never tire of it, though – the sun setting on the Gulf side. No matter how many times I've seen it, the pink and orange streaked sky connecting with the ocean is always a breathtaking sight. Although watching the sun rise over the Atlantic is by far my favorite.

Beer bottles clank together and against the tables, and Emmett's voice booms over everyone else's. He and Charlie are talking about the day and how one of the passengers spent most of the trip in the salon of the boat because he couldn't handle the choppy waters. They said the time he was on deck was spent hanging over the edge throwing his guts up. This isn't a rarity at all. We get a lot of people who think they're going to spend the day relaxing in the sun and pick up some fish to take home for dinner and end up getting seasick.

"The guy's wife reminded me of you, Bella!" Emmett yells from a couple of booths down.

I'm picking through a huge plate of onion rings that sits in front of me. After I take a sip of my beer, I crane my neck so I can see him over the people who are sitting in the booth between us. "How so?"

The outside deck where we're sitting is full of locals, including Embry and Quil from Jasper's dive shop. Leah and Claire, who run the small store which sells t-shirts, mugs, and beach accessories to tourists, are here, too. Their store is also the place where Abby gets her supplies for her pet hermit crabs. Embry and Quil are brothers who came down on vacation a few years back and never left. Leah and Claire have been here a lot longer, and as long as I've known them they've been a couple.

Jack, Abby, and I are the only conchs of the group. We're considered conchs because we were born here and have lived in the Keys our entire lives. We live in Tavernier which, thankfully, has not turned into a major vacation spot like Islamorada, where my dad's charter business and Jasper's dive shop are located.

"She was tough, hooked a few black fins and brought 'em in without help. Even the chum didn't seem to bother her too much," he says.

Charlie's sitting next to Emmett and peeks up to nod in agreement. He's wearing his mirrored sunglasses; Abby says he looks like a beetle when he has them on.

"You chummed for dolphin?" I ask, ignoring Emmett's comparison. We only use live bait for dolphin - never chum unless we're fishing marlin or something equally as big.

I roll my eyes because I realize what he means. Emmett snickers. "What happened?" I ask as Abby scoots into the seat across from me and picks up her book.

Emmett and Charlie side-glance each other then smile. "The chick's husband _might_ have said something about our lack of technology on the boat and complained that we wouldn't find a good spot without a GPS. And he _might_ have hinted if they didn't catch anything he was going to ask for a refund."

"So? We get people like that every once in awhile."

"He was also making fun of his wife because she had a hard time holding the rod at first."

I smile and raise my beer to him; assholes get the full-service tour of the boat which includes a tutorial of what chum is made of and how and why it's used.

"And this is the guy that got sick, right?" Emmett winks and nods as he returns my gesture with his own beer.

"Girls can do anything boys can do," Abby says and grabs an onion ring, never taking her eyes off her book. "And Grandpa doesn't need fancy stuff to know where the fish are, right, Mommy?"

"Right, baby."

It's true; Charlie has sort of a sixth sense about fishing. He refuses to install any kind of sonar equipment on the boat in order to track fish. He says GPS's are for pussies. I don't question him because he's always right.

"There's the birthday boy!" Liz yells from behind the bar as Jasper walks in. Abby's head pops up. She's been waiting patiently for cupcakes.

Apparently, he got tied up at the dive shop waiting for some guy to come in so he could appraise a supposed artifact the diver found out by Plantation Key.

Jasper takes people treasure diving, and he's pretty well-known in the middle Keys for his knowledge of wrecks as well as the value of anything found.

He's grinning widely and has these perpetually sleepy eyes. Jasper always has a casually happy expression on his face as if he were stoned – he's not though. He just drinks beer like the rest of us. It's like water around here.

We all hold our bottles up as sort of a toast to him, and he throws his fists in the air as if he's cheering for himself for turning thirty-one after he takes a beer from Liz. It's as though Norm from _Cheers _has just walked in_… _if Norm had been thin, tan, and blond.

Alice practically tackles Jasper and engulfs him in an embarrassingly long kiss as Jack runs up the steps that lead from the beach, screaming, "Cupcakes!"

I look toward Abby and smile. She marks her page with the bookmark she's made out of construction paper then places the book on the table. I watch her face while she takes in Jasper, Alice, and Jack hugging, kissing, and being playful with each other. I can't help but worry she misses her dad more than she lets on, but she just smiles as Alice hands her a cupcake.

Alice slides into the booth next to me as Jasper sits across from us next to Abby. Jack's gone back down to the beach, face and hair covered in frosting.

"Well, hello there, Miss Abigail," Jasper says.

"Hi, Uncle Jasper." She smiles. "Happy birthday."

Alice extends her hand palm up toward Jasper, and he takes an onion ring from my plate. "Thank you, doll," he replies. He glances at Alice's hand then her. "What?"

"You _know_ what - I want my booty."

Jasper digs into his pocket. "It's my birthday. I think you should be giving me booty." He winks.

"You'll get your boot-"

"Alice!" I warn and mouth for her to shut up, trying not to laugh. She mouths back she's sorry and takes a pull of her beer.

Jasper chuckles and turns toward Abby, holding out his closed fists in front of her. "Pick one."

Abby's eyes dart up toward Jasper then at his hands. She's staring at them methodically; her eyes traveling back and forth from his left hand to his right, her lips are pulled in.

I wonder if Jasper's hands are beginning to cramp because she's taking so long to choose, so I gently remind her to hurry up. Abby takes a deep breath and points. "This one."

"Mmm… are you sure?" he asks, and she nods. He opens his hand, revealing a gold coin.

"It's just like yours!" Abby excitedly pulls out the thin chain Jasper is wearing that's under his shirt. It has a coin attached to it and he never takes it off.

She's holding them side by side, flipping them over and then back again. "Yes, ma'am. It's good luck, you know," he says.

Abby nods still comparing the coins. "Can you make me a necklace, too?" she asks, and Jasper agrees.

Charlie's pulled a chair up to the end of our table. "Whatcha got there, munchkin?" he asks as Emmett walks up behind him.

"Booty," she replies. Abby scrambles to her knees and places her hand on Jasper's shoulder as she leans across him to proudly show Charlie. "Uncle Jasper said it's good luck, and he's going to make a necklace for me like his. Do you want one, too, Mommy?"

"Yes, Abs, your mommy wants some booty, too," Alice interrupts then sticks her tongue out at me. I throw an onion ring at her, and when I do, Alice's expression changes. She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. I turn to see Jack pouring a bucket of sand over his head and laugh – serves her right. "Jack!" she screams right next to my ear, her voice intentionally deeper than usual. She tries to sound menacing, but it's hard to take her seriously because she's so very not. Even Jack realizes this and laughs.

My ears are still ringing as she takes off down the steps after him – she's fast, but Jack is faster and runs away from her. "Jasper Whitlock! Come get your son!" she yells, completely exasperated.

An hour has passed, and Jasper has opened his presents: a t-shirt from Claire and Leah's store with a stupid diving joke written on it, a case of beer from Embry and Quil, and a baseball cap with Charlie's charter logo printed on it from Abby, Charlie, and me. Liz made him his favorite burger, and Emmett promised that he and his wife, Rose, would take him out for drinks the next night she had off from the hospital.

Before we leave, I check with Liz to see if she can watch Abby the next morning. We have a half-day trip scheduled, and Abby asked if she could help out in the restaurant instead of playing with Jack. She likes to help Liz with breakfast; she takes orders for coffee and eggs.

Abby has seemingly fallen asleep within minutes of getting her into bed; sometimes she pretends, and as soon as I walk out of her room and close the door she pulls a flashlight out from under her pillow to read. She doesn't think I know about her flashlight, but I do.

Once I hear her snoring softly, I walk into the kitchen where Charlie is making sandwiches for our trip the following day. I kiss him on the cheek then grab the boat key off the hook by the back door.

"Goin' out for a bit?" he asks, and I nod - he doesn't ask where or why any more.

Our house and several others back to the canal where my boat is slipped. Every so often I take it out when I need to feel him. Tonight is one of those nights because I miss Riley so fucking much I can't stand it.

**/*/*/*/**

**So there you have it. I originally planned to have a bunch of chapters written before I posted this one, but have finally realized I'm too impatient. **_**Hints**_** is roughly 2/3 of the way finished and that's where you'll find your smut. **_**Dragonflies**_** is all fluff with a mix of UST. **

**Speaking of smut… go read this: http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/5953212/25/A_Thousand_Words_Twilight_25_Picture_Prompts**

**It's rather unf, like very much so.**

**Thank you so much for reading & I hope you enjoyed this chapter and what's to come.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own Twilight, but I do own this plot, so… you know the drill. **

**Huge thanks to the ladies who were immensely helpful with this chapter - askthemagic8ball, sncmom, coldplaywhore, katinki, and antiaol. I'd like to buy them each an ice cream cake because they truly are amazing women.**

**The chapters will alternate POV's – this one is Edward's. **

**/*/*/*/**

_Kratos Papadakis, owner and founder of the Papadakis Restaurant on South Halsted Street, died this past Wednesday from complications due to pneumonia. Mr. Papadakis, born January 26, 1927, was 83. Survived by his wife, Vara, and three sons, Adrian, Christos, and Eugenio, Mr. Papadakis also had several grandchildren as well as great-grandchildren. Mr. Papadakis served in WWII as a private in the Army for two years. Among his many accomplishments, Kratos Papadakis will be most remembered for…_

"His baklava." I lean back in my faux leather chair and pull at the knot of my tie.

I hate wearing ties.

Staring at my monitor, I'm tempted to delete my epitaph for Kratos and start over. I didn't know him that well, hardly at all really, but I think he deserves more than the standard issue obituary. He did make fanfuckingtastic baklava after all.

"Talking to yourself again, Masen?" Jared leans against the wall of my cubicle.

Calling it a wall is a loose description at best. It's barely half of a partition and more of a divider between me and two other people. So technically, it's not even a cubicle. However, the few things I do have consist of a computer, an uncomfortable, squeaky chair, and several pieces of Chicago Cub contraband tacked to the wall-partition-divider as well as scattered on the top of my sorry excuse of a desk.

Not all of my collection of Cub paraphernalia was acquired illegally. It was given to me, but if I had to be honest, it was done so under false pretenses. Having a friend working in the sports division of the paper who loans out his press pass in exchange for a few beers has its benefits. It also helps the ball club's publicity if they hand out anything with the Cubbie's logo on it when they've lost more than ten games in a row and want a decent write up in the Chicago Sun-Times - or any publication for that matter. "Gotta give the fans some hope," I would say to their rep, flashing my borrowed pass. Okay, so admittedly, it's an underhanded way to acquire items for my collection. I've loved the Cubs since I was a kid, and I am nothing if not resourceful. Sue me.

"You knew Kratos, right?" I ask Jared as I hover my fingers over the keyboard ready to hit the delete key.

"Who?"

"Kratos Papadakis… the owner of Papadakis Restaurant with the kick ass gyros and baklava?"

"Oh, the old guy? No." Jared squints as he looks at my monitor. "Did he die?"

"No, asshole. I'm practicing writing his obit for the hell of it just in case he does die one day. Yes, he died… on Wednesday," I say and shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest.

Jared is a nice guy and all, but considering his position with the paper I expect him to show more compassion. Then again, maybe it's just me. Maybe I shouldn't try to get more out of my job than I do and follow suit like Jared does – just write what I'm paid to write about.

Jared rolls his eyes. "What about him?"

"I don't know. He was a decent man… did a lot in his life," I say and begin to tick off his accomplishments which include donating money to refurbish a park, giving food from his restaurant to hand out to the homeless, and even lying about his age so he could join the Army. It's kind of depressing because I wonder in twenty years if he'll be remembered for the little things he did.

Probably not.

"So," Jared presses.

"So, this is getting old."

Jared scoots around me and sits on my desk. He looks around and then leans forward. He whispers, "I hear Tanya is taking a job with the Tribune… maybe you could transfer over to her spot in wedding announcements," he jokes, laughing at himself.

_Ass._

"Well, _Ask Julie_, maybe that's something _you_ should consider." Jared is our advice columnist, and he's good but hates that our editor, Marcus, predicted our readership would increase if those seeking answers to life's most unearthly questions came from a woman as opposed to a man. So, he got his balls whacked and became 'Julie'. His readership increased by twelve percent.

"Dick," he replies.

We're knee to knee, so I roll my chair back, hitting the wall-partition-divider because I need more space. I inwardly laugh at the double entendre of my thought because it's suddenly very clear to me how much I really do, in fact, need more space.

I reach forward, save my work to my flash drive then power down my computer. Hoisting myself out of my chair, I ask Jared to tell Marcus I'm not feeling well. I also ask him to relay the message that I'll finish up the few remaining obits I have left to write at home and will email them to Jane by four. The people are dead, so it's not like I'm going to miss out on anything new.

_Jesus, when did I become so morbid?_

Oh, right, the day I took the job as the Sun-Times' obituary writer three years ago.

/*/*/*/

I'm pacing back and forth in my apartment, my fingers laced behind my neck, and I'm debating whether I really want to do this or not. I've been thinking about it for the past few months. The novel written by the author who gave me the idea is sitting on top of my coffee table, and I can't stop glancing at it, willing for some kind of sign to show me what to do.

Crazy? Possibly.

A little voice inside my head is saying, "Just do it, dickweed. What the hell are you so scared of?" And I imagine I'm in one of those moments in a cheesy B list movie where the author suddenly comes to life or the book itself begins to talk, telling me what I should do.

Considering I'm imagining Hemingway sitting on my couch is bad enough, but actually hoping his novel, _To Have and Have Not_, speak to me and give me a little direction is all the affirmation I need to get the hell out of here for a while. Although 'dickweed' is more my language than Hemingway's, and 'just do it' is well, _Nike_.

Whatever.

I need to do this.

I'm thirty-four, single - dateless for a month, sexless for two - and I have a Bachelor's degree in journalism. I should not be writing obituaries… for three fucking years.

I started working on my novel right around the same time I accepted the job at the Sun-Times with the intent of getting paid for brainless work. I thought this would allow ample time for me to write… I thought I had it all figured out.

Even before that, before discovering that I really wanted to become a novelist, I had a plan. I'd snag an internship with a reputable newspaper during my senior year of college, graduate, secure a job with said paper writing articles about the affects of both local and national government policies and tax hikes on the average family, or follow the trial of an accused serial killer.

That much did happen, and I began my career writing short articles on community events until my editor trusted me enough to put me on bigger, more important stories. The problem was that I had opinions and, apparently, didn't write balanced, fact-based articles. I was told my opinions tipped the scales, yet I continued to write what I thought to be true. Unfortunately, my continued description of facts wasn't very well received by my former editors.

Editors, as in plural, as in I've been fired more than once. Three to be exact. Actually, the third time doesn't count because I didn't really get the job with the magazine.

Then I had an idea for a book and started jotting down random thoughts until it grew into an outline and from there a few chapters. I still needed a job, though, and by a stroke of luck I had run into my old college roommate, Jared, one night at a bar. Jared was working at the Sun-Times and put in a good word for me with Marcus.

However, I never thought writing about people's expected and unexpected deaths would suck every ounce of creativity out of me.

I need to clear my head, and thought by going to where Hemingway lived might help. It's ridiculous, I know, but after I Googled the Keys it seemed like the perfect place.

Granted, Hemingway drank like a fish and committed suicide there, but… fuck, I really am morbid. I shake off that thought knowing that's not the point.

The point is I want to see what he saw, and… I don't know… I want to be inspired by something… anything.

Within minutes, I'm online making flight reservations. I haven't even asked for time off yet, hoping if I give Marcus a week's notice, he won't have a problem with it. If he does, I'll make something up.

/*/*/*/

My flight to Miami is scheduled to arrive at ten this morning. I can only stay for a week because that's all the time off Marcus would allow for my 'sick aunt'. He was pissed off the morning I approached him, not at me, but I'd already bought my airline ticket and didn't want to chance him saying no - non-refundable tickets and all. I tried to convince him I could write obits from anywhere, hoping I could take off for at least two weeks, but he wouldn't budge. I didn't press either – I really need to keep this job.

According to the directions I printed off, it should take me about three and a half hours to drive from Miami to Key West. I decided not to make hotel reservations and to figure it out when I get there. If nothing's available I'll sleep in my car or on the beach… it doesn't matter. I'm not making any more plans.

Jared thinks I'm taking a vacation just to regroup. He knows I'm working on a novel but has no idea what it's about. No one does, not even my parents. Jared would undoubtedly give me shit if he knew the actual genre of my book. I haven't told him anything about it, not even the synopsis: A marine is deployed to Iraq. His family thinks he's been killed, but he hasn't. When he finally comes home he finds his wife with someone else but doesn't do anything about it because he's always been in love with her best friend. He lets everyone believe he's dead so he can try to get with the friend. The premise is lame, yes, but that's not why Jared would give me shit – it's a romance, and because of that there's no way in hell I'd tell him. My mom, Elizabeth, would gush, and my dad, Edward Sr., would simply raise his eyebrows and possibly question my sexual preference. I shouldn't feel embarrassed by this because what I've written so far has the makings of a really good story. It's the stigma that comes along with writing romance that I don't want to deal with.

As I settle into the seat of the plane, I close the window shade to block the morning sun. I'm tired and want to sleep because I've been up most of the night stressing over the possibility that this trip will do nothing for me. I'm afraid I'll come back to Chicago in the exact same frame of mind in which I left: empty and uninspired.

"Sir?" I hear a soft voice and feel a hand shaking my arm. I think I'm dreaming. I am, or I was dreaming, but I can't remember about what or who, if anyone. I hear her voice again, but this time she's a little louder. "Sir, we've landed and we're deplaning now."

My eyes widen, and I blink repeatedly then rub the back of my stiff neck. "Sorry," I say to the flight attendant before taking in a deep breath through my nose and stretch. I'm surprised I slept through the landing and the jolt of the plane stopping in front of the gate.

"It's really no problem. You must have been really exhausted," she replies and smiles.

I look down the aisle as I stand to retrieve my carry-on and notice I'm the only one left on the plane. That's a little embarrassing. "Yeah, I guess I was."

She follows me down the aisle toward the exit and tells me to have a nice stay in Miami.

"I'm not staying in Miami," I state. "I'm heading down to Key West."

Her eyes light up. "Really? I'm going down there myself. I've got three days before I'm flying out again."

Transferring my carry-on from one hand to the other, I rake my fingers through my hair. I'm fairly certain she's hinting around to hooking up together, and even though it's been two months since I've had sex, I'm actually not that interested. And the fact that she's saying 'really' a lot is a bit annoying.

"Oh." It's all I can muster at the moment. She reaches around me, produces a pen from somewhere, then takes my hand and begins to scribble on my palm.

"This is my cell number. Give me a call if you want to get a drink or something." She smiles a toothy, white smile. She's attractive, has a good body, and seems nice enough, but again, I'm just not interested.

It's not that I've given up on dating or recently come out of a bad relationship. I'm simply not looking right now. Admittedly, I do want to find someone and get married one day. Kids would be good, too, but… _later_.

I look down at my palm then back at her. "Um, Kirsten, I don't-"

"No, it's _Keersten_," she interrupts, emphasizing the correct pronunciation of her name.

"Keersten?" I parrot, she nods vigorously, and I inwardly roll my eyes. "Sorry. I'm not actually on a vacation or anything, so, ah, I don't know if I'll have time." I try to sound sincere because I don't want to rudely shut her down. I know she just wants to get laid, and I can totally respect that. At the moment, though, I don't.

"Well, if you change your mind call me. We could really have fun."

I smile then nod and make my way down the tarmac. As soon as I'm at the gate, I search for the nearest bathroom so I can wash the 'really' nice bubble-gum-blonde's phone number off of my hand. I don't need or want any distractions.

The sun is blinding as I walk toward the lot to find my rental car. I've rented a jeep because, A) I've always wanted one and jeeps really aren't conducive to downtown Chicago, and B) I want something I can drive on the beach. I don't even know if people are permitted to drive on the beach, but in case I can, I want to be prepared.

I've been driving for an hour, taking everything in, and the ocean is unbelievably gorgeous. But the smell of the salty air is like nothing else. I've already begun to relax, and I know I'm doing the right thing as I think about how I might go snorkeling or fishing at some point during my stay.

I'm also starving since I slept through the snack service of pretzels and a Coke. Because I have a plan not to have a plan, I have no idea which exit I should take off of Highway 1 to find something a little more decent than fast food.

Somehow I navigate my way into a small town through a series u-turns and lefts and rights, ending up at a small restaurant located right on the beach. It's rustic and casual, and it's perfect.

Sitting in a wooden booth, I hold a menu in one hand and rest my arm over the back of the seat as I stare out at the ocean. I've never been to the beach before - Lake Michigan is my only experience with a large expanse of water. This is nothing compared to that, and I'm blown away by the beauty.

I'm also really hot, and I wish I'd worn shorts instead of jeans. The ceiling fans above are nice but not doing much to alleviate the heat that is now suddenly suffocating me. I pull a few paper napkins from the dispenser sitting on the end of the table and surreptitiously wipe the small amount of sweat that's gathered on the back of my neck.

A waitress walks up to my table and asks what I'd like to order. I ask her if I can have a number seven: a grilled chicken sandwich and fries along with a Coke.

"Noooo problem," she says happily and smiles. She's an older woman, probably the same age as my mom, but she's very tan – not in a leathery, unflattering way, but healthy. I look around at the few people milling about; I think it must be a culture shock or something because I'm so impressed with how laid back people seem to be – it's different from Chicago.

"Thanks," I reply, and she begins to walk away. "Ma'am?"

"Liz," she says as she walks back to my table.

"I'm sorry?"

"Liz, not ma'am," she says with a smile.

"Okay, sorry," I laugh. "Can I get a glass of water, too?"

"Sure, hon."

"Incidentally, my mother's name is Liz – technically, it's Elizabeth, but she goes by Liz, too." I smile and don't know why I felt compelled to share this information with her, but there's something very welcoming about her.

"Oh, yeah? Small world, I guess." She turns her head for a moment and smiles and winks at something behind me. When she looks back toward me, she asks, "And you are?"

"Edward." I extend my hand and we shake.

"Well, Edward, it's very nice to meet you, and I hope you enjoy your stay in Tavernier."

"I'm just passing through," I correct. "I'm on my way down to Key West for a few days."

"Well, have fun then, Edward." She excuses herself to put in my lunch order. After a few moments, I pull my cell from my pocket, remembering I never texted my folks to let them know I've arrived. It's just a courtesy thing.

As I'm punching in the message on the keypad, I hear a tiny voice say, "Dragonflies can see all the way around."

I look up and see a little girl standing at the edge of my booth. She's resting her arm on top of the table, and her little hand is slowly yet silently moving back and forth as if she's feeling the texture of the wood while staring at me almost expressionlessly.

"What's that, sweetie?" I ask. She's got the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen, and even though she's wearing glasses, I can still see a smattering of gold flecks around her irises.

She takes in a deep breath then exhales and points toward my shoulder. "Dragonflies have big eyes, and they can see all the way around them."

I have no idea what she's talking about but awkwardly move my head to look down at my shoulder. There's a freaking bug on me that looks like it's a mosquito on steroids, and instinctively, I jump and swat at it.

The little girl gasps, her eyes grow impossibly wider and her bottom lip trembles as she looks toward the floor.

It only takes me seconds to realize what I've done, and as I look down I notice the giant bug barely fluttering its wings and probably gasping its last breaths.

The little girl now has tears running down her cheeks, and I feel like shit.

"Abby," a woman yells. She's not loud, loud like she's actually yelling or screaming but she's not quiet either, and there's question in her voice.

I know I have to do something to get this little girl to stop crying, and I'm not exactly sure what that might be, so I lean down and gently pick up the half-dead insect.

"It'll be okay." I'm trying to sound reassuring as I put the insect in an empty coffee cup that's on the table. "I'll take it to a vet; it'll be fine."

I guess the little girl's name is Abby, because there's a woman now crouched down in front of her asking her what's happened.

"He killed it," Abby sobs.

The woman looks up at me – she's pissed. _Fuck_. She's got to be the girl's mother because they have the exact same eyes, although she's shooting daggers at me through those brown eyes at the moment.

I'm denying my role in purposely killing the bug by shaking my head, rambling off a bunch of "No, no, no's and I didn't mean to", but I begin to apologize profusely anyway, therefore admitting my guilt. I reiterate that the bug is going to be just fine and remind the little girl I'm going to find a veterinarian to make certain this happens.

The woman rolls her eyes in annoyance, scoops up Abby, and starts to walk away. Abby and her mom are a few feet away as Liz brings my lunch and sets it on the table.

I know I have a horrified look on my face; I don't really interact with kids that much, ever, really, but I don't want to make little girls cry either. And I can't figure out why her mom got so pissed. It's just a bug.

"She'll be fine," Liz assures me. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry!" I yell to them, craning my neck around Liz. Abby's mom doesn't turn around. Instead she sharply throws her hand up and continues to storm out of the restaurant.

I look at Liz and lift my hands apologetically. I really feel badly about what just happened, and even though I know I'll probably never see these people again, I feel like I need to make it up to Abby.

This is not how I wanted to start my trip.

"She's a bit obsessed with dragonflies," Liz says.

"Who?"

"Abby. The little girl who's heart you just crushed." She's chuckling, mocking me. I know she's joking, but I look at her exasperatedly anyway.

I peek inside the cup – I've definitely killed the bug. It's just lying there, lifeless. I think there's something really wrong with me because insect epitaphs are now running through my mind.

"Is there anything I can do?" I ask, thinking maybe I can buy Abby a stuffed animal or something. I don't want her to remember me as the stranger who killed a piece of her odd obsession.

"Chocolate," Liz states, and I quirk my eyebrow.

"Abby likes chocolate?"

"No, but her mom, Bella, does."

**/*/*/*/**

**A/N: Thank you for reading. The response to the first chapter was so much better than I expected! Next chapter will go back to Bella's POV. **

**Btw – I'm working on a one shot for the Beyond the Pale contest. This one will definitely NOT be wussperv approved. The contest opens August 10, so if you'd like to read my twisted entry, check back then. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own Twilight, but I do own this plot and original characters. So, you know… don't steal.**

**Huge thanks to sncmom, Askthemagic8ball, and coldplaywhore. They're pretty awesome women, and I think I love them as much as Diet Coke.**

**/*/*/*/**

**BPOV**

"Do you think he's really going to take it to the doctor?" Abby asks as we walk home.

I sigh. "I'm sure he'll do his best, honey." I look down at her and smile reassuringly even though I'm lying.

"It was just a dragonfly." Abby mumbles. "They're pretty, not scary."

I nod in agreement because most of them are but not this one. It was huge, black and yellow body, beady eyes; it was just ugly. Admittedly, I probably would have done the same thing as the guy did. If I wasn't already so mad, I also would have tried to explain that to Abby. But I _was_ angry, and she was crying when I walked into Rudder's to pick her up, so I didn't bother. I didn't bother to ask what happened or console her or tell him not to worry about it. I do feel a little badly, though. He was sincere when he apologized over and over again. Still, a stranger made my daughter cry.

"He was probably just surprised. That one was pretty big."

Once we're home, Abby asks what we're going to do for the rest of the day, and I promise to play a game with her or maybe watch a movie after I shower. We have errands to run, too, and even though it's not that exciting she perks up because she knows I always buy her a treat when we're out.

Abby curls her little body up in my bed and turns on the television while she waits for me to take my shower. The water is hot, almost too hot; steam fills the bathroom as I stand under the stream, and it feels so good. The muscles in my shoulders are tight, and I turn the shower head to massage, allowing water to beat against my back and neck. As I stand there, my head down, eyes closed, I begin to get angry all over again.

I love what I do, the fishing, working on the boat with my dad and Emmett, being on the ocean; it's fantastic, and I don't think I'd trade it for anything, but sometimes people can be assholes. Not my dad or Emmett, it's the single guys who get drunk by ten in the morning and not care I'm wearing a wedding band and still think it's okay to make a pass or _accidentally_ rub up against me if they're reaching for something, like this morning. This sort of thing happens every once in a while, and when it does I simply ignore it. This morning, however, it just got to me. I don't say anything anymore to Charlie or Emmett about it when it does happen. It's not worth it. I made the mistake of telling them once – Emmett had taken the guy by the collar of his shirt, bent him over the railing of the boat and threatened to throw him over. I don't want rumors spread about our charter service that because there's a girl on crew, boys can't be boys. There's enough competition around here.

I walk out of the bathroom wearing shorts and a t-shirt; my hair wrapped in a towel. Abby is sound asleep in the middle of my bed. Liz must have worked her hard this morning. I smile.

Throwing the towel on the chair that sits in the corner of my room, I quickly brush out my hair and climb in bed with Abby after taking off her glasses. I _am_ a little tired – I've been up since four – and think maybe a nap won't be so bad, although the both of us will most likely be up way too late tonight. It doesn't really matter because we don't have to get up early. Before lunch, Abby and I are going to catch live bait for the night charter we have scheduled tomorrow with a few local anglers. Rose is coming on the trip, too, and I'm bringing Abby as well - it's going to be a full moon which is the best time to fish tuna.

Abby's warm, and I love to bury my nose in her hair. It doesn't take me long to drift off to sleep.

"_I have a surprise for you." He's grinning. The sun is in his eyes, but he doesn't block the brightness with his hand nor does he squint. They're glistening and blue and beautiful. I can feel myself smiling, too._

_As I step forward, he steps back. His blond hair is whipping around from the wind._

"_Give!"_

"_Uh, uh. Kiss me."_

"_Present first."_

_He shakes his head; his smile doesn't falter._

"_Please?" I ask, but he doesn't relent._

_My hands are warm. I feel him. _

_I reach around his back – he moves away. We begin this dance of me trying to outmaneuver him, but he's winning._

"_Kiss me first." He's laughing. I look at his mouth, his lips, then at the dimple in his chin._

_He holds a wrapped box high above his head, and I jump, but I can't reach it. He holds it behind his head, his elbows pointing toward the sky._

"_Kiss me, Bella."_

_His face is beaming, and I want to kiss him._

_My heart is pounding. There's sand between my toes, and I step closer to him. _

"Go!" I hear from the other room and hug the pillow to my chest. I want to go back to sleep and cover my head with the blanket. I'm barely awake, and I know I can fall back asleep, so I try to relax.

There's more talking, more noise, and I know falling asleep now will be impossible.

"Come on, Starfish, go, go, go!"

There's yelling and screeching and laughter - I have no idea what is going on in the other room. I also have no idea how long I've slept and roll over to look at the window. The sun is peeking through the edges of the blinds, so maybe I've only been sleeping for an hour. I want to go back to sleep. I want to finish my dream; they don't come that often anymore, but then I remember what I've promised Abby.

I hear Charlie laugh again then Abby.

"Faster, Henry!" someone yells.

_Henry? Who's Henry?_

My eyes pop open, and I lie still in bed, wondering who's in our house. My bedroom door is closed, so the voices are somewhat muffled when they're not yelling. Rolling to my side, I wait for whoever it is to say something again. There's more chatter and a bunch of "Come on's!" but I can't tell who it is. It's definitely not Emmett.

Begrudgingly, I get out of bed and take a quick peek in the mirror. _Perfect_. I have a tiny sheet wrinkle running from the corner of my eye toward my ear. Rubbing at it does nothing, so I give up and sweep my hair into a ponytail. I'm disappointed I won't be able to go back to sleep, but I'm still hanging onto the feeling left in my heart and belly from seeing and hearing Riley – even thought it was only in my subconscious.

Walking down the hall, I still don't recognize the voice, but whoever it is, he's having a good time with my dad and daughter.

"How was your nap, Mommy?" Heads turn in my direction, and I stare at the stranger for a moment.

"Um, fine, sweetie." The three of them are on the floor, surrounding the coffee table. Abby's hermit crab cages are sitting on top of it. Wait. She only has one cage, and as it sinks in that there are two now, I also realize who this person is. He stands and walks toward me. "You're from the restaurant today," I say to the dragonfly killer. _Why are you in my house?_

I look pointedly at Charlie; he shrugs.

The stranger opens his mouth to say something, but Abby interrupts. "Look what Edward brought me!" She holds up a cylinder shaped wire cage.

"Yeah, hi," he, _Edward_, starts, "I felt badly about earlier… I hope that's okay." He nervously chews at the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head, gesturing toward the cage.

"How did you know where we live?" I ask because this is borderline creepy, not only because he's here, but also because I wonder how he'd know that Abby likes the gross, crawly crustaceans. I'm not fully awake, so all of this is feeling a bit surreal at the moment.

"Liz."

"Liz told you where we live?" I sort of screech-say. W_hy would she tell a complete stranger where I live? _

"Easy, Bells. Edward just wanted to apologize to Abs and you for earlier," Charlie says as he stands. "Okay, kiddo, let's get this track cleaned up."

Edward and I smile awkwardly at each other. Abby helps Charlie snap the lids on the cages then Charlie holds a container off the edge of table so Abby can easily push the Jenga pieces into it. "My crab won. The new one, Henry, is really fast," she tells me, proudly.

Edward's hands are shoved in his pockets; he nods toward Charlie and Abby. "Hermit crab races."

I cross my arms over my chest because I realize I'm not wearing a bra. Even though I'm practically swimming in my shirt, I'm not taking any chances letting him see the girls, no matter how small they are. "Yeah, I kind of figured." I bob my head as I say this. Abby and Charlie scoot by us to put the hermit crabs in her room. "You really didn't have to do that, you know - she was fine."

"Oh, it's no problem."

Edward and I are still standing in the same spot, and it becomes clear to me that he probably thinks I'm a lunatic or a walking time bomb. First, I direct all my anger toward him, and then my dad tells me to take it easy after screeching at him.

"Sorry, I'm Bella," I say, extending my hand. With my other hand, I move it to my shoulder and pretend to scratch while forming a 'v' across my chest. I wonder if he knows I'm trying to cover myself up. "Thank you, it was really nice of you to think of Abby like that."

He half-smiles at me, and I smile back, letting go of his hand.

"She's really cute. Smart. She came up with making a race track for them out of her toy."

I nod. This whole exchange between us is just strange; he's got to feel really uncomfortable – I do.

"Are you thirsty - do you want something to drink?" I ask, but he declines, saying he's fine and that Abby gave him a glass of water already.

"Well, I am… thirsty," I say and walk toward the kitchen. I turn on the tap, flicking my fingers under the water for a few seconds until it gets cold enough, and fill the glass I've pulled out of the cabinet. I'm still keeping at least one arm in front of my chest and think I should probably just excuse myself to change.

"So, you're on vacation?" I ask, trying to be polite. It's obvious he is because of his complexion; either that or he uses one hundred SPF.

It's also apparent he's been here, in my house, for a little while, considering he, Charlie, and Abby were knee deep in hermit crab races and acting pretty comfortable with each other. That much is fine, but this is still just _weird_.

Edward walks into the kitchen – our house isn't tiny per se, but I also don't have to raise my voice to be heard from one room into the other. "Sort of. I-"

"He's writing a book about Hemingway," Charlie says, grabbing a set of keys from the refrigerator, and I lift my eyebrows at Edward.

Edward chuckles. "Not exactly. I'm from Chicago and wanted to get away for a little while. Hemingway is one of my favorite authors, so…"

"So, you're not writing a book?" I ask, and take a sip of my water.

"No, I am… _trying_ but not about Hemingway." His face reddens; he's embarrassed.

His posture is stiff, and I'm sure he wants to leave so he can start his vacation or whatever he's going to do to write his book. I'm trying to think of something to say without sounding rude to give him an easy out. He really does seem nice, but he's just standing in the middle of our kitchen, _not_ leaving.

"Oh, yeah? That's pretty cool." I really don't know what to say, so I just turn toward Charlie. "Are you going out, Dad?"

"In a few. I'm going to meet some of the guys over at Rudder's." Charlie is patting down his shirt then the pockets of his jeans. I glance at Edward; he looks at me, and I shrug.

"Lose something?"

"My wallet – have you seen it?" Taking a step toward the fridge, I reach up and pull his wallet from the top then hand it to him. He leans over and kisses my cheek. "Thanks, Bells. Oh! Alice called while you were sleeping. She's bringing Jack over - something about dinner?"

_Shit_. I almost forgot I told her I'd babysit Jack so she and Jasper could pretend to go out to dinner together – they're actually having a post-birthday sexfest back at their house. I inwardly cringe, thinking about the things Alice said she's got planned for Jasper tonight. Best friend or not, there are some things she really needs to keep to herself.

"I should get going," Edward announces, following us back into the family room. Abby's lying upside down on the couch, the ends of her hair touching the floor, and she's flipping through a book.

"Abby, can you sit up, please?" I turn toward Edward and nod. "It was nice to meet you. Good luck with your book, and thank you for the gift for Abby."

"Tomorrow night, right?" Charlie interjects, clapping Edward's shoulder.

"What's tomorrow night?" I ask.

"Moonlight fishing! I told Edward he can't come down to the Keys and not fish our waters!" Charlie's a little too enthusiastic about this, however, that is his nature – he likes just about everyone, and admittedly it is a lot of fun.

"Oh." I look toward Edward. He's nodding - he looks so unsure at the moment, even though there's been a lot of nodding going on. I wonder if he's waiting for my approval or something. I'm not sure why I think this, maybe it's the way he's eyeing me. _Great – he really does think I'm crazy._ "It's a lot of fun," I offer. "Have you ever fished in the ocean before?"

"No, but I'm actually looking forward to it."

"Dramamine," I suggest; his eyebrows furrow – he's obviously confused. "Seasickness?"

It's one thing to ride on the ocean for the first time when the sun is up, but it's something else entirely when everything is so dark. The sense of sight is all but diminished only intensifying the feeling of the boat bobbing up and down.

"Thanks for the tip." Edward smiles, his face relaxing a little.

"No problem." He's looking at me, and it's uncomfortable – his eyes are really green, I avert mine toward the floor just as Alice and Jack walk in.

"Abby!" Jack yells. He purses his lips, narrows his eyes, and makes horns with his fingers holding them against his ears. He takes off running toward Abby.

"Jack! No!" Abby scolds him as if he were a puppy that's done something wrong. She's still lying upside down, and I know Jack is going to tackle her.

I scramble to grab him, attempting to deflect a possible head injury, thus spending the night in the emergency room – it's happened before. Before I can get my hands on him, Edward has already nabbed Jack by the waist and is holding him like a football.

Jack is giggling, squirming to break free, and Edward looks at me... again. I thank him quietly as he puts Jack down on the floor. Abby quickly sits up; Jack jumps on the couch next to her and lays his head on her arm. I'm fairly certain he has a crush on her – either that or he enjoys the way Abby likes to mother him.

I don't like the way Edward keeps looking at me. It's not as though he's checking me out, it's more of a mixture of wary and curiosity – I think, and I suddenly feel like I'm under a microscope.

"So, Edward, I guess we'll see you at the dock at eight tomorrow night?" I ask, now definitely saying goodbye to him, and walk toward the door. I don't ask if Charlie has given him directions because honestly, I kind of hope he doesn't come, especially if he's going to keep staring at me all night.

"I'll be there." He smiles then tilts his head, holding up one hand. "Bye, Abby."

"Bye, Edward. Thank you for Henry!" Jack whispers something to Abby, then she takes his hand and leads him down the hall, most likely to her room to show him who Henry is.

Shortly after Edward leaves, Charlie follows, leaving Alice glaring at me. She's defiantly holding her hands on her hips, and I already know what she's going to say.

"I didn't introduce you to him because there's nothing to introduce."

"That makes no sense at all," she tells me. "Who. Was. That?"

"_That_ was Edward. He's just someone down here on vacation." I continue to tell her about the deathly dragonfly incident, what happened with me on the trip this morning, but then I make the mistake of telling her I dreamed about Riley.

"You realize how unhealthy it is to still be pining for your dead husband after four years, don't you?"

Alice doesn't believe in holding back punches. I both love and dislike her for this.

"I'm not," I lie, and I can feel tears welling up in my eyes.

"Sweetie, I know how much you loved him. We all did, but you've got to move on." Alice hugs me, and now I'm sobbing into her shoulder. She rubs my back. "Just go out or something. You don't have to go out on an official date with anyone, just let yourself go for one night."

"I don't know, Al. I'm scared. I'm afraid to let him go."

Alice steps back, her hands are on my arms. "You don't have to let him go, honey. You don't ever have to do that. I just don't want my best friend ending up an old cat lady," she says, smiling, and I laugh.

"I don't like cats," I counter.

"You don't need to like them. I hear they gravitate to women who choose the spinster lifestyle."

Shaking my head at her, I wipe my cheeks and chuckle. "Is Jack spending the night?"

"Are you going to be okay?" she asks, and I tell her I will be. She says she'll pick him up in the morning then goes to kiss him goodbye.

I order a pizza for the three of us and plan to completely immerse myself into Wii bowling and whatever other games Abby and Jack want to play. Maybe we'll make a tent in the family room, too. It doesn't matter; I'm going to keep myself and the kids busy until the three of us pass out from exhaustion. I try not to hope I can continue my dream.

Twenty minutes pass, and the doorbell rings. Jack and Abby are playing Wii tennis, and I dig through my purse for cash for the pizza.

As it turns out, it's not the pizza guy, it's Edward.

_He's back. Why._

I'm watching him through the screen door; he's shifting uncomfortably, holding a white plastic bag – the kind that has 'Thank You' written on them in red letters.

"I got you chocolate as a way to say I was sorry to you, too, for earlier today – you didn't seem like you had a good morning." He looks down then back at me. "But I left it in the jeep and it melted, so I went to buy more right after I left. I got turned around, and it took me longer to get back here to give it to you." He holds up the bag in his hand.

I don't say anything for a moment; I'm surprised and actually a little touched by his gesture. "Thank you, Edward. You really didn't-"

"I know." He shrugs, awkwardly, and I open the door to take the bag.

I love chocolate.

He smiles and rolls his eyes. "I had planned on driving down to Key West but haven't made reservations anywhere." I furrow my brow at him, wondering why anyone would plan a vacation, but not secure a place to stay. "Yeah, don't ask," he laughs. "I was wondering if you could tell me if there's a decent motel around here. I figure I may as well just stay in the area tonight since I'm going to be back up here tomorrow night anyway."

Edward runs his hand through his hair then shoves both in his pockets. I suggest he try the place on Overseas Highway and give him directions. Our Key is so small; I really don't think he'll get lost.

He thanks me and we say goodnight to each other. The pizza guy pulls up just as I'm about to close the door. A small part of me is tempted to invite Edward to eat pizza with us… but I don't.

Pulling the white box out of the bag, I recognize the gold emblem on top from Leah and Claire's. They have a couple of glass cases of chocolate, candies, and fudge in the back of their store. They don't make it but worked out a deal with a confectioner from Key Largo who wanted to get his name out there.

It's really, really good chocolate.

I lift back the lid of the box to find an assortment of dark and milk chocolates. When I look up, the delivery guy is now standing on my porch; over his shoulder I see Edward standing next to his jeep, and I wave to him and smile.

As I pay for the pizza, Edward gets in his jeep then drives away. I decide maybe he's not so creepy, and if he does show up for the fishing trip it may not be so bad. However, if he looks at me the way he was earlier, I will give him the full-service chum tutorial.

**/*/*/*/**

**Thank you SO much for reading and reviewing. I am beyond thrilled with the positive response – you guys are amazing. Occasionally, I post teasers on Twitter; follow me, and I'll follow you right back. I'm (at) 22bluefic. **

**Have a great week! **


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I don't own Twilght, but I do own the plot and original characters.

My betas and prereaders are utterly fantastic… and fast! Askthemagic8ball, sncmom, and coldplaywhore are better than watching a Jaws marathon with a beer in hand on a rainy afternoon.

/*/*/*/*/

EPOV

I, Edward Anthony Masen, am a stalker. I may not be a full-fledged stalker, hiding out in dark alleys, watching my prey, or having a shrine of my victim in a closet hidden behind a wall in a secret room, but I think I might have stalker-like qualities.

That thought is sitting in the back of my mind as I'm attempting to convince myself that this need I have to find out information is only attributed to my investigative nature and profession as a journalist. It's what I do: research subjects of interest. Obviously, I haven't had to delve into anything in too much detail for the past three years, but there is minimal research to be done.

I Googled Bella Swan about an hour after I checked into the motel. The search came up empty, so then I tried her dad's name. I don't know why I thought I'd find her by using her maiden name, but it was a start. After finding Charlie's charter website, I clicked on 'crew', and there she was: Bella Swan-Biers.

For several minutes, I stared at the picture of her standing next to a really big guy who towered over her. She was wearing sunglasses in the picture, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she had her hands on her hips. It was a casual shot, nothing extraordinary, but there was a hint of a smile on her face.

There's something about her, but I don't know what it is.

Liz gave me her address after telling me I should buy her chocolate. She wrote it down on the back of the bill from lunch and told me to go to a gift shop down the street to get the candy. Leah, the woman from the gift shop, was expecting me, and I assumed Liz called her to tell her I was coming. It was odd, but it was nice. I'm not used to the immediate hospitality in Chicago. The city is big, busy. It's not here.

Charlie is something else, and Abby… she's just adorable. When Charlie opened the door, I wasn't sure I had the right address, but then Abby ran up behind him, poking her head around his legs. Of course, the first thing she asked me was if the dragonfly survived. I wasn't sure what to say, and I looked back and forth between Charlie and her. He nodded subtly, so I took that as my cue to fabricate a story of the miraculous recovery of the bug. She spotted the hermit crab cage in my hand, and I was pretty sure she forgave me in that moment.

I spent an hour with Abby and Charlie before Bella woke up from her nap. Charlie and I debated over the Cubs and the Marlins but agreed when we talked about the politics of franchises and player contracts – no one wants to play just for the sake of playing anymore. I guess it was about twenty or thirty minutes into my visit when I asked Abby if her dad liked baseball, too. She bluntly replied he was in heaven. Abby didn't even look up when she answered, she was too busy setting up the race track with her toy.

Charlie gave me a quick and quiet summary of what happened after I glanced at him apologetically. He then immediately changed the subject to fishing. He told me there was nothing like fishing tuna when there's a full moon, and the way he spoke about it was almost comical. The man is definitely passionate about fishing. In so many words, he described it as being thrilling yet majestic. Even if I wanted to say no, there was no way I could – Abby told me I _had_ to go.

It wasn't long after that Bella walked into the room. I thought about the moment I first saw her that morning and how pissed she was, and now she just looked confused. I was waiting for her to yell at me for being there even if I really hadn't done anything wrong. I was a stranger in her house, the same stranger who caused her kid to burst into tears only hours before.

I didn't sense it then – at the restaurant. And I didn't notice it within the first few minutes of seeing her at her house.

It was when I was standing in front of her before she shook my hand and introduced herself. There was familiarity but not quite – like déjà vu, but it wasn't.

I kept looking at her, trying to figure it out. There weren't fireworks going off, my palms weren't suddenly sweaty, and my heart didn't feel like it was going to climb out of my throat. It was obviously as awkward for her as it was for me, but I'm sure it wasn't for the same reason. She didn't initiate conversation, and I knew she wanted me to leave – I couldn't blame her; she didn't know me. But I didn't make a move to leave either – I couldn't stop myself from glancing at her every few seconds.

Had this been any other situation, I think I would have been attracted to her. I am in a way; she's very pretty. But that's not it, and I can't explain it. It's been eating at me ever since I left her house.

Maybe I'm simply desperate for inspiration. I did stare at Hemingway's novel, ridiculously willing for a sign after all. Yet I didn't think I was _so_ desperate to direct that need toward the good-looking widow, with the gorgeous brown eyes, and her cute daughter. I don't want to be.

I don't want to be, but here I am, sitting on a bed in a motel with my laptop, trying to figure out why the hell I have this inexplicable urge to call Bella right now to ask her to go for a walk. Nothing more, nothing less - just a walk. I don't have her phone number, but how hard could it be to find?

There are a few emails I've yet to open, so I do, hoping to distract myself. Unfortunately, it doesn't work. I check my watch; it's not late, in fact, it's early, and the sun is still up. If I call, she'll probably think I want to take her out. I do but not on a date or anything. Maybe a date would be nice?

No, I'm only here for a week. I rap my fingers on the keys.

Two seconds later, I search her name again for her phone number, and there it is, right in front of me. All I have to do is pick up my cell and dial the number.

What the hell is wrong with me?

What if she says, _"No, Edward. You're a freak and you scared me by showing up at my house uninvited with a crab and chocolate. And how did you get my phone number anyway? Stalker!" _

That's definitely how the conversation will go.

Because I _am_ a stalker.

I'll wait until tomorrow night to see if this… whatever this is I think I'm feeling, is still there when we go fishing. There will be several other people around, and because she'll be expecting me, maybe it won't be so awkward. I'll be able to chalk this whole oddity up to me just being in a totally different environment.

That's what it is. It makes perfect sense. I'm just out of my comfort zone, in a brand new place, and the run-in I had with the beautiful brown eyed girl is nothing more than a-

_What, Edward? What is it?_ I ask myself.

I need to get out of this room to get some fresh air – I haven't even been down to the beach yet.

Not knowing my way around very well, I drive the jeep back to Rudder's. It's not the best place to go since I don't want to be preoccupied thinking about Bella. And it also doesn't help that her dad mentioned he was coming here, too, but it would suck if I ended up driving around for hours because I don't know where the hell I am. Besides, I haven't had dinner.

I park my jeep in the lot of the restaurant because there doesn't seem to be beach access anywhere else, and I don't know if they tow around here. I don't see any signs, but I'm not taking any chances either.

The sand is incredibly white and softer than I thought it would be. The water is unbelievably clear and it's just so _blue. _I sit underneath a palm tree, and I'm suddenly in awe of my surroundings. I'm tempted to take a picture of myself, sitting under this tree and email it to Jared just to be an ass by rubbing it in his face that I'm here and he's not, but I don't. He wouldn't think twice about 'accidentally' forwarding it to Marcus.

As sweltering as it is down here, I think I could definitely get used to it. It's no wonder everyone is so friendly. How could they not be living in a place like this?

I've written down thoughts and ideas in the notebook I brought with me. Some are random descriptions or words and others are plot points. Removing my sunglasses, I take a break to watch the sun as it dips toward the ocean – I wonder if the locals appreciate the scenery they get to live with everyday. I don't think I'd ever tire of this.

It's not long until I'm frantically writing in my notebook, smiling the entire time because it's like the creative floodgates have opened. I'm also smiling because I know I'm right where I'm supposed to be in this very moment – this is why I came down here.

"Hi. What are you writing?"

Abruptly, I turn my head, and Abby is standing just a few feet away from me, holding a little boy's hand – Jack, I think, is his name.

"Hi, Abby," I immediately close my notebook and peer over her head to look for Bella. She's standing farther away and tentatively raises her hand to wave hello. I do the same. She changed her clothes from earlier; she's wearing khaki shorts and a tank top, and her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail as opposed to the messy one earlier. "I'm just working on my book," I say, looking back at Abby.

Abby pulls Jack by his hand, kneels in the sand then holds out her hand. "Can I see?" she asks.

"You want to see what I'm writing?" I hold up my notebook.

"Uh huh."

As I hand her my notebook, Jack turns his body, tilting his head so his face is right in front of Abby's. "I'm bored."

"Go play, Jack," she tells him, and he does. He doesn't put up a fight or pout. Jack gets up and runs down to the water. I'm impressed and think how this little girl is probably going to get anything she wants when she grows up.

"Does he always do what you tell him?" I ask as I hand her my notebook. There's nothing I've written in it that would be inappropriate, so I'm not worried about her reading it. What's more, she's seven – how much of it could she really comprehend anyway?

Bella walks up behind her.

"Yep, she's got him wrapped around her pinky." As I stand, I brush the sand off my shorts. "I'm sorry for interrupting you, but Abby insisted on coming over to say hi," Bella tells me. "I tried to tell her not to bother you, but she's stubborn."

She smiles, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks toward Jack who is jumping in the shallow water, then looks back to me.

"It's no problem," I say.

And there it is – the attraction - all over again.

"Is this a story?" Abby asks, looking up, adjusting her glasses as her nose crinkles.

"Um, sort of." I point to the notebook. "Those are just ideas and things I wanted to write down so I wouldn't forget them."

Abby hands it back to me. "My Grandpa has to write things down, too."

I nod.

Jack yells for Abby to come down to the water with him. She sighs and then reluctantly stands and runs toward him.

I watch Bella as she watches the kids. Studying her profile, her nose, her ears, her hair, I wonder if maybe I've run into her back home. I ask, "Have you ever been to Chicago?"

"Is that why you've been staring at me?" she asks, taking me completely by surprise. I didn't think I was that obvious. "Do I look like someone you know?"

"I'm sorry?" I'm going to play this off and pretend I have no idea what she's talking about.

"Today, when you were at my house you kept looking at me, and just now, I could see you out of my periphery, staring." Bella lifts her eyebrows, waiting for a reply. She's tapping her left hand on her bicep, the hand where she wears her wedding band, as if she's telling me to back off without saying anything at all.

"Yes, you do… sort of." _No, not really_.

She nods, satisfied with my answer. "It's rude to stare," she says, looking down. "But to answer your question, no, I've never been to Chicago."

Abby and Jack are squealing and laughing, kicking water at each other. Bella takes a few steps toward them, and yells that it's time for them to go.

"Do you want to take a walk?" I blurt out, not wanting to lose my chance doing what I originally wanted to do. Her back is facing me.

Bella's shoulders sink before she turns around and then takes a deep breath. "Edward, I don't think that would be such a good idea." She scratches her neck with her left hand, and she doesn't think I know what she's doing, but I do. I understand what she's silently telling me by waving her wedding ring around.

I don't want her to walk away, but I don't want to scare her off either. "Sure, I didn't mean it like that, I just thought..." I shrug. "Did you come down here to meet your dad?" I ask, assuming that's why they're here in the first place.

"What? No, my dad's not here."

"Oh, I thought he said he was coming here tonight."

Bella laughs to herself and rolls her eyes. "He's definitely not here." She doesn't elaborate any further and points to Abby and Jack with her thumb. "They needed to burn off some energy, so we went for a walk."

I wonder if I'm missing out on some private joke about her dad. Probably, but it doesn't really matter.

"I'm sorry for staring," I say. "I'm really not a rude person… most of the time." I smile.

Bella's face softens. "I haven't been very pleasant with you, have I?"

Abby drags Jack up from the water; their hair is soaked as well as their clothes. Bella mumbles something about giving them baths and not being happy about it. Jack has pretty long hair for a boy, and I wonder if his dad is a surfer or something. His mom totally fit the laid-back, beach type so it would make sense.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lie because she's clearly been put off by me. "You've been fine." The sun has all but disappeared into the ocean, and I nod toward it. "You're pretty lucky, you know, being able to look at that every day."

"Yeah, I know. I wouldn't trade it for anything." Bella takes Abby's and Jack's hand in each of hers. "I'll see you tomorrow," she says, then begins to walk away. She stops mid-step then turns. Bella covers Abby's and Jack's outer ears with her hands and pulls them close to her sides. "You're not a creepy stalker, right, just passing through." She's not asking, rather confirming.

I know she's joking about the stalking part, although I feel sweat begin to bead on my forehead. I scoff, "Not even close." Passing my notebook from one hand to the other, I offer, "You'll probably never see me again after tomorrow night."

Bella nods, releasing Jack and Abby. "Have a good night, Edward."

"You, too."

It's undeniable, this sensation I get when I'm around Bella. But I know it's only one sided – that much is clear, and I question my sanity.

/*/*/*/*/

I didn't sleep well, and I'm exhausted. I drove down to Key West, though, and checked out the area before heading back to Tavernier. It's a lot more crowded than I thought it would be and driving on the beach is definitely out. There's not that much beach to drive on. I'm a little disappointed. Regardless, I'm going back tomorrow to spend the rest of my week down there.

I'm also sunburned; driving in an open top jeep under the blistering sun shirtless was not the brightest idea. I picked up a bottle of aloe for my skin and some bottled water to take fishing. I really hope they don't make me wear a life jacket because that's going to be nothing but painful.

It takes me a while to find Charlie's boat – they all look the same to me, but when I finally do reach it I see a few people standing in the back of it. Bella and Abby are among them; Abby is sitting on one of the chairs while Bella is moving about. I assume she's doing whatever preparations need to be done. For the first time I begin to get nervous.

I've told her she'd probably never see me again after tonight, and now suddenly I have a lump in the pit of my stomach from that thought.

Charlie appears on deck with a beer in hand and is followed by the guy I saw in the picture on Charlie's website. He's fucking huge; it's intimidating. A blonde climbs on board then slaps the big guy's ass and laughs. Abby seems excited to see her, and then the blonde kisses Bella on her cheek.

I look up, rubbing the back of my neck before finally approaching the boat. Part of me wants to turn around and leave, but my brain says don't.

The boat is rocking gently, and a few gulls squawk and circle overhead as Bella and the giant sort through a cooler.

I'm not sure if I should just climb on board or say something first.

Bella peeks up and sees me standing on the dock. "Hey, Edward," she says and continues to do whatever she's doing. She lifts the cooler and moves it to a different section of the boat – the girl's got some muscle on her arms, and I'm really impressed.

"Hey," I reply then step onto the boat.

Charlie walks over, claps me on my back – I grimace because it hurts like shit, but I try not to show it – and introduces me to everyone. The giant is Emmett, and the blonde is his wife, Rose. The other two are Billy and Sam. Charlie hands me a beer, and I offer to do something to help. I realize there's nothing I can do, but I ask anyway. He says no and suggests I have a seat.

Bella walks by with canvas straps in her hand. "Did you get Dramamine?" she asks over her shoulder.

_Shit_. "No, I forgot all about it. I'm sure I'll be fine."

She shrugs. "Suit yourself."

Rose is sitting across from me with her arm around Abby's shoulder. "You've never been on a boat before?"

I shake my head and smile. "Not on the ocean."

She reaches in her pocket and throws a small plastic tube toward me. "Here, take one of mine. I get nauseous every time."

Thank god Rose gave me one of her Dramamine because as soon as we're in the middle of the ocean the combination of the boat swaying and bouncing up and down, my sunburn, and the beer I drank has made me feel like shit. However, I am grateful they didn't tell me I had to wear a life jacket because my skin is on fire at the moment. Abby is the only one wearing one, and I wonder if it's been custom made for her; it's neon pink with, big surprise, dragonflies on it.

Charlie slows the boat, and I'm doing my best to be social, pretending I'm feeling just fine, talking to Billy and Sam about nothing in particular. Rose has been watching Abby as she's busied herself throwing pieces of bread off the side of the boat and giggling when seagulls dive down toward the water, fighting over each crumb. Emmett and Bella are busy, prepping the rods in the holders.

I think she's avoiding me. I've been doing my best to not outright stare, but I do look at her every chance I get. She really is pretty, especially when she laughs. I understand now why she's so quick to flash her wedding band. I'd almost guarantee she gets hit on… a lot. She hasn't once made a concerted effort to look my way, and instead of sitting with the rest of us like Emmett has when they're not doing anything boat related, she's in the cabin with Charlie.

I shouldn't have come. I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable, and I think am. I also think if I don't head straight down to Key West once we arrive back at the dock I'm going to spend the next five days of my vacation trying to come up with any excuse I can just to talk to her.

"Spit," Emmett tells me, holding up a hook with a huge chunk of white meat on it.

"Excuse me?"

"It's good luck. You need to spit on your bait." He gives it a little shake and quirks his eyebrow. "Let's go. Ain't got all night, and you don't fish if you don't spit." Emmett wipes his forehead with the back of his hand then pushes at the baseball cap he's wearing backwards.

Okay, do I do a snort and spit or just the saliva that's already in my mouth? Snort and spit is gross, so I go for plain saliva. Emmett tosses the end of the line into the water then shakes the rod to make sure it's stable.

"You're all right, man," he says and slaps his hand on my back.

Clenching my eyes from the pain, I'm determined to hold in a scream, and inhale a breath through my nose.

I look up and there are literally a million stars in the sky. It's clear, and the moon is bright, reflecting streaks of white on the ocean. "Why is a full moon so great for tuna?" I turn to Billy who's sitting next to me.

"Fish are stupid. They see the light at the surface and think it's food." Billy nods and points to a group of birds hovering over a spot in the water. "See that? That's where we're going, but Charlie's gotta be careful not to drive right through or else we'll scare 'em away, but he's gotta get us close enough to attract the tuna to bite."

"We'll get them, Billy," Bella says from behind me.

Internally, I breathe a sigh of relief because I finally have an excuse to say something to her without it seeming as though I'm forcing it. I could show my lack of knowledge about fishing by asking all sorts of inane questions, but that would just be annoying.

"Is it hard to do?" I ask, turning my chair toward Bella. That's a safe question.

"What? Catching them?" I nod. "No, but if we drive straight through the flock, we're going to go right through the middle of the school. They'll break up and scatter, and then we'll have to troll in another spot." Bella rests one hand on the railing of the boat and the other on her hip; she's wearing white utility gloves, and I wonder how involved she actually gets when the fish start biting. She looks toward Abby who is sitting on Rose's lap two chairs down then back at me. "We get it right the first time."

_Can you not feel this?_ _Maybe a little?_

"What are the gloves for?" I ask.

"Fish are slimy. _If_ you catch anything, you don't want it to get away do you?"

_Oh, Jesus._ I think she just flirted with me. Or she's challenging me. I'm not sure, so I suppress grinning.

"_If_ I catch anything? You don't sound so sure."

Bella releases the railing; her hands are at her sides. "Guess we'll see," she says and walks toward Abby and Rose.

Well, that was anti-climatic. At least she was smiling.

Charlie turns the boat unexpectedly, and I grab onto the seat of the chair before swiveling it back to face the water.

"Get ready," Billy says.

Billy grips the rod, his expression is serious and determined, and I can't help but chuckle. "You're gonna need a bigger boat," I say in my best Quint impression.

Billy shoots me a side glance. Evidently he's not a fan.

Within ten minutes, Sam has a bite, and then I do. Emmett is by Sam's side, and Bella comes over to me.

"Take the rod," she instructs. I struggle, maneuvering it out of the holder to bring it back to my lap. "Pit it against your stomach and reel it in."

Holy shit, these things are strong.

Abby is clapping from her seat. "Come on Edward and Sam!"

The rod keeps pulling away from me, and I'm again, or still, struggling to bring it back.

"I told Emmett we should have given you the strap. Do you want me to do this?"

Ha! Like I'm going to let her reel in my fish. As tempted as I might be right now to let her take over because my arms feel like they're being pulled from the sockets, there's no way that's happening. Not that I don't think she can handle it – her arms are more defined than mine – but I really don't want her to think I'm a pansy.

Her hand is resting on the back of my chair. "No, I got it," I grunt.

"Okay," she laughs. "Pull back, reel it in, and pull back again. Keep doing that."

I do exactly what she says, and it feels like I've been fighting with this stupid damn fish for an hour. I quickly glance over toward Sam and Emmett after hearing them cheer. How the hell did he get his fish so fast? It's big, too, bigger than I expected. And now I'm a little panicky that when I am finally able to pull mine from the water it's going to be the size of a goldfish.

I'm grunting, pulling, reeling, pulling, and then Bella moves toward the very edge and peers over.

"Emmett!" she yells. "I need your help!"

My eyes widen as Emmett looks over the edge and then back at me. He's got his tongue between his teeth and a huge grin on his face, his head bobs up and down, and I know it's something good.

My heart is racing and sweat is pouring off me; I can't feel the sting of my sunburn any more. Emmett and Bella each grab a part of the line and pull. There's a fish that's got to be at least three feet long on the end of it.

Its body is wriggling and fighting as Emmett wraps one of his arms around the body and the other close to the tail. Shit, I'm impressed with myself right now, hence the huge, cheesy grin I've got on my face.

Everyone is happily yelling. Emmett pins down the fish as Bella cuts the line because the fish has teeth.

The fucking fish has teeth.

"What is it?" I consider asking if I'd be able to take this fish home to my apartment and hang it on my wall.

Emmett, Bella, Sam, and Billy all look at each other. Collectively, they yell, "Wahoo!"

"Okay, great. Wahoo. What is it?"

Rose is holding Abby in her lap, she says, "That's the name, Edward. It's a Wahoo. Nice job."

Charlie's come out from the cabin to see what's going on. He hands me a beer as Emmett takes the fish to put it in a cooler looking thing and congratulates me.

Bella has Sam's fish and brushes by me. "Nice catch," she says, and I thank her.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I walk over to where Emmett has stored my fish – my big, awesome fish. I lift the lid to snap a picture and a wave of stench rolls out of it. Stepping back, I blink my eyes a few times. The nausea returns, I drop my phone, and suddenly, I'm throwing up everything I've eaten today over the side of the boat.

From my periphery, I see a couple of flashes as I white-knuckle the railing. I am so fucking embarrassed at the moment; I don't want to turn around. When I finally do, I wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my t-shirt, and Bella hands me my phone.

"I thought you'd want a memento of your first fishing experience."

"You took a picture of me puking?" I ask, waving my phone in front of her.

She's smirking then shrugs and walks away.

I think I could really like her.

More fish have been caught, not by me. One was enough. It's late, and Abby has been sound asleep on a small, two-seater couch in an enclosed part of the boat for about an hour. I offer to carry her to Bella's car, but she insists it's no problem. I point out she's covered in fish slime, so she relents.

"I had a really good time tonight," I say after setting Abby in her car seat.

"Yeah, it was fun." Bella closes the car door with a quiet click. "Well, um, thanks," she says, nodding toward Abby and playing with her keys. She begins to walk around the other side of her car. "Good luck with your book, Edward."

If she walks away now, I know I won't be able to see her again for the remainder of my trip, and probably ever, without making it seem like I'm some poor, lovesick puppy. I'm not, but I don't think I can bear the thought of not seeing her again. This comfort, or whatever it is I feel when I'm around her, I'm not willing to let it go.

"Can I take you out for coffee tomorrow?" I ask. She looks frustrated. "Or water? Water is nothing."

"Thanks, but I don't date, Edward."

I'm not going to give up, and I don't care that I've only been here for twenty-four hours. This is something I want - getting to know Bella.

"It's not a date. You pay."

She has one hand on the handle of the car door, the other is gripping her keys tightly.

"You can have my fish." I offer, and she cracks a small smile. "I'm not asking you out on a date, Bella, I swear. And I'm not looking for anything else either."

"I don't know." Her lips are pressed together, and she looks down.

"It's just water. Think about it." I walk backwards, pulling my keys from my pocket, and she opens her car door. "I'll call you tomorrow so you won't feel obligated or uncomfortable to call me, okay?"

She creases her brow. "You don't have my number."

"I'll Google it."

/*/*/*/*/

A/N: Thank you for reading, adding, and reviewing! Your kind words have made my heart happy. Enjoy your week.

~T


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Nope, still don't own Twilight. However, this plot and original characters are all mine.**

**Huge thanks to my beta and prereaders Askthemagic8ball, sncmom, and coldplaywhore. They tell me what works and what doesn't. Those ladies are better than raspberry water ice.**

**/*/*/*/*/**

**BPOV**

"You are persistent," I say under my breath as Edward backs away with a stupid half-grin on his face. I roll my eyes, shaking my head at him.

I hear the sound of gravel crunching behind me, and then Rose is by my side.

"What was that all about?" she asks.

"He asked me out for water." I lean in to start the car and turn on the air conditioning then pop the trunk. Edward is standing in front of his Jeep. He lifts his hands and mouths 'Well?'

"Oh, really?" she asks, and I know what's coming. I think, no, I _know_ Rose and Alice are conspiring together and probably have been for at least the past year.

I nod, then mouth, 'Go away,' to him, smiling.

"And you said?" Rose presses.

"I didn't give him an answer." I shrug, and Rose looks at me pointedly. "What?"

"Baby steps." She waves in Edward's direction as he drives away. "He's nice, Bella, not like the boobs that come down for vacation and are just looking to get drunk and laid."

"How do you know he's not a boob?" I ask jokingly, poking her in the shoulder.

"Because boobs wouldn't be so sweet to your daughter." She laughs and pokes me back. "It's water – what's the worst that could happen?"

"Boobs? Who's boobs?" Emmett yells from behind Rose, and we simultaneously shush him. I peek inside the car – Abby's still sleeping.

I take off my shirt that's ripe with the smell of fish and tie it up in a plastic bag. I'm wearing a sports bra underneath, so I'm not worried about changing my shirt in front of Emmett. "Speaking of babies," I say, ignoring Emmett's remark and sticking my tongue out at him, "did you call the lawyer yet?" I ask, pulling on a clean shirt.

Rose crinkles her nose and shakes her head. "Not yet."

"Why?"

"You're changing the subject."

"No, I'm not. I was thinking about you today and forgot to ask earlier. What's the hold up?"

"She's afraid they're going to say no. She doesn't want the rejection," Emmett interjects, putting his arm around Rose's shoulder.

I quietly close the trunk of my car and turn toward Rose. "You're out of your mind if you think you won't be able to adopt. I see the way you look at Abby, Rose." I pause, gauging her expression. She wants this so badly. "I've also seen the way you hold those newborns at the hospital. You're supposed to be a mom."

"Taking care of those babies is part of my job, Bella." I narrow my eyes at her. "There's so much red tape," she continues, making excuses.

"Maybe, but you're not going to convince me a little red tape is what's stopping you." Emmett interrupts us and says he's going to run back and make sure Charlie is coming, but I think he's just avoiding the conversation. "You've been trying to get pregnant for two years, sweetie. There's a baby out there waiting for you and Emmett. Don't let him _or her_ down."

"My god, Bella. You sound like a Hallmark card." She laughs – maybe I do, but it's true. She's going to make such a good mom. "_You_ should go out with Edward… for water. Or maybe you shouldn't… can't he at least spring for a beer? He sounds kind of cheap," she snorts.

"Yeah, maybe he is. You're right, I shouldn't go." I'm teasing, sort of, and Rose playfully glares at me.

Emmett and Charlie walk down from the dock. Their hands are empty, save a cooler Emmett is carrying. They must have given Billy and Sam the fish to clean and cut. Most of the time we do it on the boat, but considering it's almost midnight they'll just put the fish on ice until the morning. I'm hoping Billy and Sam keep the meat since our freezer is full, and I'm getting tired of eating tuna.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll meet Edward tomorrow if you call the lawyer… _tomorrow_. But you have to call first," I say, and Rose scoffs. "I think that's more than fair." I smile and then realize I've just agreed to _not really_ go out with Edward.

"Uh huh, and as soon as I tell you I've called, you'll suddenly come down with a cold and won't be able to leave the house, won't you?"

I hesitate for a moment, thinking that's probably not such a bad idea. Nevertheless, Rose has been my friend for seven years, and I'd do anything for her. She held one of my hands while Riley held the other when Abby was born. It was the same year Emmett started working for my dad. Charlie needed help – it wasn't feasible for his pregnant daughter to wrangle in fish, and Riley agreed. Emmett and Charlie came to visit me in the hospital; Emmett held a giant stuffed fish, and Charlie had his hands full of balloons and flowers. Rose had been sitting on the edge of my bed when the two of them walked in, and I swear it was as if Rose and Emmett fell in love the second they saw each other. I tell Abby she's the reason why Rose and Emmett are together.

"Will you call?" I ask, and Rose rolls her eyes and nods. "Then I'll go."

There's suddenly a small lump in my throat after I say this. I know it doesn't mean anything, and Edward hasn't given me the impression he's a jerk… yet. Knowing he's only going to be in town for a few more days helps, too, but I still can't help but feel as though I'm cheating on Riley - no matter how harmless it might be.

/*/*/*/*/

Abby is standing on her stool next to me, stirring the pancake batter while I slice strawberries. Her blonde hair is a mess, sticking out here and there, and it reaches the middle of her back. I need to remember to make an appointment to get her it cut.

I stop slicing the fruit and grab an elastic band off the counter. Abby's going to get batter in her hair if I don't pull it back. She doesn't stop stirring regardless of me tugging and pulling her messy mane into a low ponytail. She already has batter on her white cotton nightgown; she doesn't like to get her clothes messy. Normally she'd stop what she was doing to change her clothes, but she doesn't this time. Instead, she continues to mix – she's very determined this morning for some reason.

She looks up at me and smiles after I splatter the pan with a few drops of water. The water sizzles then disappears, and Abby knows she can begin to pour the batter. She's laughing, I'm laughing, too, watching her make one huge pancake.

"I don't think I can flip that," I tell her. "It might break."

Charlie walks into the kitchen, says good morning after kissing Abby on the top of her head, then sits at the table. He never schedules a charter the day after we've night fished – he says it's to give the boat a rest. His boat, _Renee II_, is his prized possession. _Renee I_ was damaged beyond repair from a tropical storm that hit the keys about five or six years ago, and ever since purchasing the second boat, he's been absurdly protective over her.

"Grandpa can do it."

Charlie cranes his neck, and I tilt the skillet so he can see the browning pancake which is the size of a dinner plate. He lifts his eyebrows and whistles, then tells Abby there's no way he wants to chance ruining her masterpiece. She giggles and hands me the spatula just as the phone rings.

I don't recognize the number, but I have a feeling I know who it is. I let it ring four times.

"Are you going to pick that up?" Charlie asks, and I scrunch my nose.

Part of me hoped he'd forget to call, but I also don't want to renege on my deal with Rose.

"Hello?"

"Bella?"

"Yes."

"Hi, this is Edward." He sounds nervous.

"Hi, Edward." I'm able to turn the pancake without completely destroying it, and Abby beams at me.

"So… are you thirsty?" he asks. He's trying to be cute.

Charlie lifts Abby to reach the plates out of the cabinet, and the two of them set the table.

"At the moment?" I ask.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" I hear him chuckle through the phone.

Handing the spatula to Charlie, I walk into the other room. Both he and Abby are staring at me – I don't want an audience.

I don't say anything for a moment, and Edward asks if I'm still there. Charlie pokes his head around the corner, and I shoo him away.

"Sorry. I have to go to Islamorada today with Abby to pick up a necklace for her. There's a small place right near it, Key Ice; I'll meet you there. They sell water." I smile, and then give him directions.

"What time?" he asks.

"Give me two hours."

"Is that Edward?" Charlie asks with a mouth full of pancake as he walks into the room, and I nod. He swallows, reaching for the phone. "I need to ask him about the Wahoo."

"My dad needs to talk to you. I'll see you soon."

"Bella, wait." There's a second of silence. "I'm looking forward to it."

Yes, he's very nice, I can't deny that. I just can't figure out why he wants to get together, as innocent as it may be, if he truly doesn't want something.

"Bye, Edward." I hand the phone to Charlie.

As I head back into the kitchen, I inadvertently wipe my hands on my shorts – my palms are sweaty. And I know why; I'm about to do something I really don't want to do.

Rose had better call the lawyer today.

/*/*/*/*/

"Hi, Edward!" Abby yells when she spots him walking down the street. She starts to take off toward him, but I grab a handful of her sundress before she does. It's crowded, and I don't want her running through people.

"Ladies," Edward greets us after he gets closer, Abby smiles. I feel badly for him; his arms and face are bright red – he's got to be uncomfortable.

"That's quite a tan you've got going," I joke. "Does it hurt?"

"Not too much." Edward moves his arm next to mine, comparing the two. "I brown quickly and pretty soon I'll fit right in with the rest of you."

Taking the strap of my bag off my shoulder, I dig in, pull out a bottled water, then hand it to him, smirking. "You might want to consider working on the rest of _you_," I say, nodding toward his pasty white legs.

"You're right," he says, chuckling. Abby tugs at my hand, attempting to drag me into Key Ice as Edward looks at the water I've given him and purses his lips. "Okay," he mutters, flipping then catching the plastic bottle. "So, Abby, what's this place?" He's looking at me, though.

"Water ice. Do you like it? My favorite is lemon, and Mommy likes strawberry."

Edward nods. "I promised to get her some. Do you mind?" I ask.

"Not at all." Edward walks behind us toward the door then reaches around me, pushing it open. His face is right next to mine. I take a larger than normal step forward, almost walking right into Abby as I, too, push the door. I think I hear him say he's sorry, but he's quiet and the store is loud, and I remind myself to relax.

"Lemon, Abby?" he asks, removing his sunglasses and hanging them off the collar of his t-shirt. She nods, and her eyes widen. "Bella? Do you want some?"

"Edward, you don't have to, I was going to get it-"

He raises his hand to stop me as I lift my sunglasses to rest them on the top of my head. "I don't have to do anything, but it's unbelievably hot outside. Water ice sounds really good. And this," he holds up the room temperature water, "isn't going to cut it. I'm going to get a cup, so, do you want some?"

I definitely need to relax. He's going to think I'm a complete bitch, but I'm really not. "Yes, that would be great – thank you."

"No problem. Go get a table," he knits his eyebrows but then half smiles. His smile is warm, gentle, and admittedly, a little contagious.

It's quiet between the three of us for a few moments; I find myself looking around the store at the walls, the customers, Abby… Edward. His eyes are fixed on his dessert as he pokes at it with a plastic spoon.

"Don't you like it?" I ask then take a huge spoonful of mine.

He looks in my direction and then turns to Abby. "Your mom said you're getting a necklace today?"

That was… rude? I'm not sure if I should be offended because of Edward ignoring my question or not. Maybe he really does think I'm a bitch and is just disappointed because his futile attempts of getting me to go out with him or whatever he wants are just that – futile. Or perhaps Edward doesn't like it and doesn't want to hurt Abby's feelings. Or maybe I'm just thinking way too much about this.

Seriously, though, how can he not like it?

Deciding I've spent more time than necessary worrying about his reaction, I sit back in my chair and enjoy the best strawberry water ice ever. Abby pushes her spoon in hers and moves her hair away from her face with her hand. She tells Edward about the lucky gold coin Jasper gave her the other day, and he's genuinely interested. He's not simply nodding his head and smiling just to appease her.

It's nice.

Abby proceeds to tell Edward that 'Uncle' Jasper's job is diving for treasure. Edward looks toward me with a raised brow, and I nod in confirmation.

"That's kind of cool," he says. "What's it like to live like this everyday? It's like you're on vacation 24/7."

"No, not really. We work hard – that was you on the boat last night, right?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." He's sincere, and I'm relieved he realized I was being sarcastic.

"I know. I've lived here my entire life, so I'm used to it. I don't think I could do the city or suburbia thing, though. Catering to people gets old sometimes, but there's so much beauty here that it makes up for that."

"I totally agree," he says, diverting his eyes toward his water ice as he scrapes the last bits from the cup.

I crumple up my napkin, stuff it in the paper cup, and Edward immediately takes all of our trash to throw away.

He needs to stop trying to woo me. By definition, taking someone's trash without being asked to do so is polite, but I know it means more from him. Even though he hasn't done anything to make me feel uncomfortable - scratch that - Edward hasn't done anything to make someone who doesn't desperately want her husband back feel uncomfortable. My hands are underneath the table; my fingers gravitate toward my wedding band, and I turn it between my thumb and index finger.

We get up to leave, shove our chairs in, and Abby asks if he wants to come with us to pick up her necklace.

Edward looks toward me for approval. God, I feel horrible – he's been so nice, and I've been… I don't know what I've been. Paranoid, over thinking every detail, bitchy… yep, that pretty much sums it up.

"Come with us. Jasper has quite a collection – it's really extraordinary."

"You sure you don't mind?"

"No, I want you to, and I think Abby would like it, too." I walk out of the door in front of him. He doesn't try to push it open this time.

We walk a few blocks until we reach the dive shop. The air conditioning inside is unbelievably refreshing. I think Jasper must have the thermostat programmed at sixty because I'm practically freezing after being inside for just a few minutes.

I lift Abby to sit on one of the glass cases while we wait for Jasper to get her necklace from the back of the shop. Edward is meandering around, inspecting and touching different things Jasper has out on display.

"I told you," I say to him. "Pretty remarkable, huh?"

There's gold everywhere: chains, Spanish coins, pieces of artifacts. Jasper has a huge display of scuba gear, too. He's got old tanks hanging on the walls and framed pictures of him and others holding treasure they found are scattered around as well.

Edward nods then walks toward us. "He got all of this himself? How long has he being doing this?"

"No, not all me, man," Jasper announces, pushing aside a curtain which serves as a door to his office. "Here ya go, little lady." He shows Abby the necklace before fastening it around her neck.

"Thank you!" she squeals. I don't think I've ever seen her so excited, and I can't help but smile.

"You are more than welcome, sweetheart." Jasper tucks his hair back behind his ears and offers to show Edward around.

"It's beautiful, baby," I tell her as she proudly shows it off. I lift her off the case, and she stands in front of it, trying to look at her reflection.

Edward points to some of the pictures on the walls after Jasper has finished giving him a quick tour. I look up, and there's a picture of Jasper and Riley in wetsuits holding a few gold coins and a broken urn. It's not newly hung, but it stuns me every time. They each have huge, goofy smiles on their faces; that was one of my favorite days. My

heart beats faster, remembering snapping that picture of them.

I hate that even after all these years it hasn't gotten any easier. No matter how many times I see that picture of him, it's as if someone's just punched me in the stomach. Grief counseling only got me so far.

Abby breaks me from my thoughts, complaining how she can't see herself very well in the glass case.

"I think it's time to go anyway, Abs. You can look at yourself in the mirror in your room." I look toward Edward who's shaking Jasper's hand. "Um, we're-,"

"I'll walk you to your car," he offers.

Abby is walking a few steps ahead of us, and I'm doing my best to have a normal conversation with Edward. The fresh air helps.

"By the way," he starts, "you asked me if I didn't like the water ice." I side-glance him then look back at Abby. She's holding the coin away from her, moving it at different angles as she watches the sunlight refract and sparkle off it. "I did… I do like it. Probably too much."

I know what he's telling me, but I don't want to encourage him nor do I want to have this conversation right now. I worry my bottom lip with my teeth then remind Abby to wait to cross the street.

Edward is waiting for me to say something; I can feel the tension between us. Well, I'm tense - I'm not sure what he's feeling exactly.

My car is parked on the next block, so I won't have to torture him too much longer. I'll simply thank him for buying Abby and me dessert and wish him luck on his book and shake his hand goodbye. I'll be polite and friendly, but firm. And then everything can go back to normal.

"Yeah, it's really good."

Edward stops walking. "Look, Bella, I'm not talking about the water ice here… can you just-"

I stop then turn. "Can I just what, Edward?" I'm quiet; Abby is standing only a foot away from us. "What do you want? Do you want to take me out? You're here on vacation, and you're leaving in a few days. Even if you weren't leaving… I don't do the date thing. I already told you." I'm whispering, silently pleading he would just understand this.

"I know. I'm sorry." He removes his sunglasses, wiping his hand over his face.

Abby pulls at the hem of my shorts, saying something about seeing a mirror in one of the stores so she can look at her necklace, and I ask her to wait for a minute.

Edward puts his hands on his hips, dipping his head down before looking back at me. "I don't know how to explain it, and if I tried you'd think I was crazy."

Abby tugs at my shorts again. "Abby, I'll be done in just a second. Hang on." Finally, she lets go. I stare at him, my arms crossed, and he boldly removes my sunglasses. There are several people walking around us, and I'm ignoring them all, my feet planted as I wait for him to explain. I've heard so many pick up lines, and I think the reason I'm so frustrated right now is because I truly thought he was a nice guy.

I cock my head, encouraging him to continue.

He sighs, smiling nervously. "I'm afraid if… I feel like… I don't know, like I need to get to know you." Edward rolls his eyes at himself.

Shaking my head, I don't know what to think anymore. I want to be angry with him, and now, honestly, I actually want him to be an asshole because that would make it easier. But deep down I know better; he's not.

"That doesn't make any-"

"Oh, Jesus! Abby, stop!" Edward yells so loudly, I jump then whip around.

My heart is in my throat because Abby is in the street; she's gaping at Edward, confused - all I see are her eyes, huge and terrified. A flash of brightness catches my attention; the sun hitting the silver car that's about to hit Abby, and I feel stunned, frozen. Adrenaline takes over, forcing me to move, and I run toward them. Edward grabs her, and as he spins around with Abby in his arms, his feet tangle and the two of them fall. My mouth drops as the car speeds by, it doesn't bother to slow, and then I start to cry.

"Abby!" I scream, dropping to my knees when I reach them, tears streaming down my cheeks. Edward is lying over her, his arms cradling her, his hand holding the back of her head. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

I'm frantically checking her over, touching her arms and face as Edward sits up with her still in his arms. She has no idea what's going on, and she's crying, gripping his shirt with one hand, reaching for me with the other. I try to calm her while attempting to calm myself; she clings to me and I wrap my arms around her. Her little legs and little arms are constricted tightly around me, but I need to look at her to make sure she's not bleeding anywhere and to check if anything is broken.

Edward strokes her hair, asking if she's okay and then asks me the same. A small crowd has gathered around, but I'm too upset, too hysterical knowing Abby has almost been hit by a car to acknowledge their concerns.

Edward and I have Abby calmed down enough so that she'll allow me to check for injuries. She has a small cut on the back of her calf, but other than that I don't see anything. I worry she hit her head against the concrete, but when I see Edward's hand, it's bleeding, and remember he broke her fall.

As we stand, I pick up Abby then wipe my cheeks. My heart is still racing, and I feel as though I can't catch my breath. Abby's head is buried in my shoulder, and Edward smoothes her hair again. The outside of his forearm is scraped and bloody.

"Edward, thank you." I lift his battered hand. "Can I?" I ask, sounding out of breath, and he nods. I move it to get a better look. "Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't tickle," he huffs.

"Do you think it's sprained or broken? We can go to the emergency room."

"No, it's fine, really. I can wash it off back at the hotel."

Pulling lightly at his shirt, I reach up to kiss him on the cheek – he just saved my daughter.

His eyes are closed, and his jaw looks tight. I thank him again. "Come back to my house, and let me clean up your hand and arm."

Edward shakes his head, taking a step back. "I should go back to the hotel, Bella." He walks toward where we were previously standing, picking up both pairs of sunglasses from the sidewalk. He holds them up; they're clearly broken, and then he walks back toward us. "Can I call you later to check on Abby?" he asks.

Abby's resting her head on my shoulder. "This is my fault, Edward. If I hadn't been so…" Tears begin to well in my eyes again; I'm still overwhelmed, frightened. The image of that fucking car runs through my mind again, and my teeth grit. With the heel of my hand, I wipe my eyes and nose. "Please, come back to the house and let me take care of that." I nod toward his arm which is now trickling blood, some of it smeared on his shorts.

"Okay," he acquiesces. "You're shaking." I look down at the hand not secured around Abby, and it is. "Do you want me to drive? I'll figure out a way to get my Jeep later."

Our house is only ten minutes away; I'm fine to drive. I tell him this, and he agrees to follow us home.

/*/*/*/*/

Edward sucks in a breath through his teeth as I hold his hand under the cold water. He does the same when I rinse the blood and dirt off his arm, too.

"I'm sorry." I grimace. My eyes still sting.

"It's okay."

I lift his arm; there are a couple of pebbles embedded into the skin on his forearm. "You're going to need antibiotics." He groans in annoyance. "I'm so sorry."

"How am I going to do that? I don't want to have to go to an urgent care." He's whining, and if I didn't feel so guilty, I probably wouldn't think it was cute.

"I have connections. I can get you a script by tonight."

Abby is lying on the couch watching television, holding her necklace. She has a tiny cut on her leg, but other than that, she's perfectly fine. The SpongeBob Band-Aid worked wonders. She can't understand why we're not going to the beach today since she's not hurt. I told her we're going to lay low, instead, leaving out the part that I'd most likely be a head case the entire time.

Edward sits next to me at the kitchen table. After I bandage his hand, he rests his arm on his elbow, holding his hand up, and I start to pluck out the pebbles.

"So, you're a drug dealer slash fisherman?" he asks, screwing up his face when I pull out a small stone.

"Fisherwoman," I correct. "No, Rose – you remember from last night?" He nods. "She's a nurse, and her mother is Abby's pediatrician who just so happens to be married to the head of the ER." I pluck the fourth and final pebble out of Edward's arm then lead him back to the sink. "So, connections." I pour peroxide over his cut then pat it dry after it stops bubbling.

"You have a nice touch. Did your connections teach you how to do this?" he asks as we sit back at the table.

I apply Neosporin to his arm then a gauze wrap. "No, I studied nursing for three years." I glance up at him; his head is tilted slightly. "And, no, I don't go around practicing things I learned four years ago. The minor stuff, like this, I can handle."

"I didn't think that at all. I was just wondering why you didn't finish… but that's probably none of my business."

I smile. "Stuff happens, you know. Things change." I put the last piece of tape on the gauze then sit back. "There… good as new."

Edward inspects my work and smiles as I clean off the table. "Nice job. This is so much better than spending the afternoon in the emergency room."

"Yeah, well if it weren't for me you'd probably already be sitting on the beach in Key West."

"That is very true," he mumbles.

Pulling a beer from the fridge, I hand it to him. "I'm so sorry."

"That's not what I meant… exactly."

I open my mouth to say something then close it again. I'm not sure if I want to hear the rest of what he was telling me earlier about how he feels like he supposed to get to know me.

I'm also not so sure that I _don't_ want to hear it either.

/*/*/*/*/

A/N: Thank you for reading, reviewing, and adding Dflies!

Water ice is the same as Italian ice. If you're not sure what that is, it's fruity, frozen and delish. Trust. http:/en(dot)wikipedia(dot)org/wiki/Italian_ice

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend.

~T


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Twilight and its characters do not belong to me rather they are all Stephanie Meyers'. However, this plot and original characters are all mine, mine, mine.

Big thank you to askthemagic8ball, sncmom, coldplaywhore, and aciepey. I love those ladies more than the Salsa. Well, pretty damn close.

/*/*/*/*/

EPOV

For a moment I thought the pull I felt toward Bella was just one of those things where I was meant to be in the right place at the right time. But then she kissed me.

It didn't matter if her kiss was merely a chaste thank you on my cheek, or because she was obviously in shock and upset over what might have happened to Abby. All I wanted to do was hold her face between my hands and touch her lips with mine. But I needed to walk away - I would have kissed her right there on the sidewalk and not have cared if her face was damp from crying.

Except if I had held her face and touched her lips like I wanted to, I knew for a fact I'd never see her again. She's not ready.

I tried to tell her I'd take care of my hand and arm back at the hotel, but she insisted, and she was crying. The thought of Abby getting hurt was crushing even to me. I'd never reacted so quickly to anything in my life, but there Abby stood – defenseless and unaware; the car was moving so fast, and she's _so_ damn small.

I couldn't say no to Bella when she insisted she be the one to care for my injuries, as minor as they were. And then I realized this was going to be the beginning of the most difficult few days of my life. Once I was inside her house, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to stay away from her. I'm not that strong. When I returned to the hotel, I reserved my room for an additional four nights.

I'm sitting in a white plastic chair on the tiny balcony of my room. The view is decent enough; if I stand on the farthest left part, I can see the Atlantic through the palm trees. It's been a few hours since I left Bella's; she told me she'd call when she had the antibiotics, so at least I have a valid excuse to talk to her again. Now I just need to figure out what I'm going to do next.

There are different Keys I want to see while I'm here, and I wonder if I can convince her to show me around. Maybe I should turn on my irresistible charm and send her flowers twice a day. No, that's too impersonal, and I'm not even sure I could be irresistible. I can be charming, though, or so I've been told. Does Bella like charming? Jesus, I don't have a clue as to what she likes or dislikes.

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I place my hands on my hips and look toward the floor. My mind is spinning - I don't even know what I hope to accomplish. This is crazy. What's going to happen when I go back to Chicago? What if she finally says, "Yes, Edward, I would like to get to know you better." And then I would say, "That's wonderful, Bella, because I am dying to know everything about you. Would you mind if I touched your skin and your hair, and then kissed you? Because I want to… badly. I also want to walk and talk with you, and then I want to kiss you again." Maybe the conversation wouldn't go exactly like that, but even if it was remotely similar, then what?

I'm screwed.

In addition to being screwed, I'm out of my mind; she's still in love with her dead husband. How the hell am I supposed to compete with that? Do I even want to?

Yeah, I think I do.

I scrub my hands over my face and then through my hair as I pace around my room which seems so much smaller now than it did fifteen minutes ago. I feel like I've been thrown right back into a similar situation I was in before I left Chicago. Except now I'm faced with an entirely different scenario. The claustrophobic feeling is the same, though. The difference, the huge distinction between the two, is that my current dilemma seems so much more tangible than the other, and so much more significant.

And Bella is anything but a dilemma. I've watched the way she moves; how she wrapped her fingers around the spoon when she scooped the water ice out of the cup, how she combed those same delicate fingers through Abby's hair. I watched the corners of her mouth turn up into a smile after she used my phone to take a picture of me on the boat last night. I noticed the small 'v' that formed between her eyebrows when I removed her sunglasses earlier today – she was annoyed… she's kind of adorable when she's mad. I swallow down the lump that's formed in my throat because I think I've suddenly figured out why she seems so familiar.

I contemplate calling Jared or my father for advice. What type of advice exactly, I'm not sure, and do I really want to admit to the possibility that I think I've dreamed about her?

There's a quick, hard knock at my door; my heart jumps. When I open it, I'm disappointed because it's not Bella, but her dad, Charlie. He holds up a small, white paper bag.

"I was asked to deliver these to you; Bella didn't want to leave Abby. The two of them are watching a movie together." He hands me the bag, and I invite him in. "I also wanted to thank you for what you did today. Bells was a mess when she told me." Charlie removes his sunglasses, allowing them to hang by the attached cord.

"It was scary, that's for sure. Is Bella still really upset?" _Does she need me to come hold her hand? Hug her? I could do that._

_Jesus Christ, Edward, get a grip._

"I think telling me what happened shook her up again. You know, saying it out loud?" He nods as he says this. "But she'll be fine. Listen, why don't you come back for dinner? I'm gonna cook up that Wahoo you said you don't want."

I clear my throat – if I don't, I know I'd sound like a thirteen year old boy going through puberty. "Oh, hey, I don't want to put you out." I lie, shrugging, and then rub the back of my neck. I'm staring at Charlie right in the eyes, willing him to push his offer for dinner.

"Are you kidding? You saved my granddaughter today! That's worth at least a dinner."

I inwardly high-five myself. "Okay, sure. That sounds a lot better than the fast food I had planned on eating."

Before Charlie turns to leave, he says, "There's a ball game on tonight – Marlins are playin' the Mets – you in?"

_Fucking Mets._

"Yeah, absolutely. Are you sure Bella won't mind me crashing the party? I mean, she was really surprised when you invited me fishing… I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable again." Part of this is true. Inside, though, I'm jumping up and down. And I'm okay with that – being a thirty-four year old man silently harboring the excitement of a teenager.

Charlie laughs. "Son, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. It's about time someone made that girl feel uncomfortable."

I raise my brow. "Pardon?"

Charlie places a hand on his hip, scratching the back of his head with the other. He then motions toward the chairs in my room which sit on either side of a small table. "You're not to mention a word of this… understand?" I nod, sitting in one of the chairs. Charlie sits, too. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, folding his hands together. Charlie has almost the same brown colored eyes as Bella, although his have deep set wrinkles in the corners. "It's obvious to me you've taken a liking to my daughter. Hell, anyone who has come within five feet of you can see it." He chuckles and shakes his head. I rub my hands together, waiting for him to continue, and hope to God he doesn't threaten me with a shotgun if I do anything inappropriate to Bella. "Here's the thing, Edward. She's been walking around like a zombie for the past few years. She's just goin' through the motions, taking care of Abby, taking care of me… she's not living her life."

"I'm not sure I know what you're getting at, Charlie." I do, but at the same time I really don't.

"She asked what I thought about you." Charlie purses his lips; he seems cautious. "She hasn't asked my opinion about anyone in a long time."

_Hell. Yes._

A smile is threatening the corners of my mouth, and I look toward the floor. Before I look back toward Charlie, I steel my face – no need to look like an ass.

"How much longer are you here?" he asks.

"Four days."

He clucks his tongue once, and I can tell his mind is churning. "I'm not sure what to expect, if anything at all. I know you've got your book thing and your own life, but whatever you're doing, keep doing it. She's got a light in her eyes again – and I missed it."

I nod; it's all I can do. I might actually be in shock because I think Charlie has just given me his blessing to pursue his daughter… or is he simply using me to loosen her up for someone else? That's a pretty shitty thought, but honestly, I don't know what the hell is going on.

Charlie rises from the chair then tells me to be at his house for dinner in an hour. I ask if I should bring something with me, and he tells me to pick up a twelve-pack of Miller Lite. Not my favorite, but I can deal with it to appease him… unless he wants the beer all to himself.

Just as he's ready to leave, he says, "By the way, Edward. If anything does happen between you and my daughter, and you end up hurting her, plan on a private tour of the ocean floor courtesy of me and Emmett."

I nervously laugh then shake his hand, and he snickers. If it came right down to it, I could easily take the old man – not that I would, but I could. Against Emmett, however, I wouldn't stand a chance. I'm going to bring a case of beer just to be on the safe side. I get his threat, though; I'd be the same way if I had a daughter.

Fifty-four minutes and twenty-three… now twenty-four seconds later, I'm standing on the porch of Bella's house with plenty of beer and ring the doorbell with my elbow. I managed to shower without getting my bandages wet, and I've shaved. I'm also wearing the nicest shirt and pair of shorts I packed. I wonder if she'll notice?

There's no movement coming from inside the house; I'm peering through the screen door and don't hear or see anyone, so I ring the bell again. My palms are sweaty, and I know it's because I'm nervous, but it's also hot as hell outside. I quickly point my nose down toward my armpit then sniff – I don't stink, nor do I have issues with body odor, but still… it's ungodly hot, I'm beginning to sweat everywhere, and I don't want Bella to have to sit far away from me because I smell.

Finally, Charlie yells for me to come in. He walks around the corner holding a large spatula in one hand and a beer in the other. Once he registers my hands are full, and I can't open the door unless I juggle or maneuver the beer, he jogs toward me then opens it.

"That's a lot of beer you've got there, son. Are you planning on staying for a while?" he asks, laughing, holding open the door, and I walk past him.

I follow him into the kitchen. He takes one of the twelve-packs from my hand then puts it into the refrigerator. The back door is wide open, and immediately I notice I don't hear Abby or Bella. _Shit_. I worry I might be stuck here with Charlie eating fish and watching baseball.

I shrug as he hands me a beer. "Thanks," I respond, twisting the cap off the bottle. "They were on sale." God, I'm such a liar.

Charlie leads me out back where he's grilling potatoes wrapped in foil. I sit in one of the wooden chairs at the table. The patio is nothing more than a slab of concrete; there's a large green and white striped awning above providing a decent amount of shade. There are a few potted plants scattered along the edge of the patio as well, and it's comfortably non-pretentious.

I nod toward the water separating Charlie's backyard from the neighbors across the way – everyone has a boat slip, and Charlie's is empty. "No boat?" I ask.

He turns away from the grill, and I nod toward the water again. "Huh? Oh, yeah, we have one. Bells and Abs are out in it now. They went down to the marsh for a bit." Charlie picks up a set of tongs then rotates the potatoes. "Don't worry; she'll be here for dinner." He snickers.

Why is he snickering?

"I wasn't worried." I need to stop lying, although, am I truly lying? I'm trying simply to not seem like a desperate ass, so, no, I convince myself, I'm definitely not lying. "What time does the game start?"

Baseball is an easy topic for me and obviously for Charlie, as well. He tells me it starts at seven and is being played in San Juan – the third of the three game series between the two teams this week. I'm already fully aware as to why the owner of the Marlins wants to play in Puerto Rico, but I don't tell Charlie. Instead I allow him to go on about the club's hopes of bringing in more fans. Charlie's worried the club will move out of Miami; not likely, though, since they're building a new stadium. I decide not to broach that subject because I don't know if Charlie's pissed or not about the controversy that's surrounded the financing of the project, and I'm not willing to risk my in with Bella if we don't agree.

Charlie moves the potatoes to the side of the grill, then reaches into a small cooler he has sitting on the ground. As he pulls out a large Ziploc bag which contains the fish, he brings up the pros and cons of the designated hitter before setting the bag on a table near the grill. My blood starts to boil. I figure this is a test of my character; no _real fan_ is going to condone the DH. Charlie lowers the heat on the grill, then picks up his beer and sits in one of the chairs across from me.

I take a swig from my bottle and look at him directly in the eye. "The DH is bullshit."

Charlie reaches across the table then clinks his bottle against mine, and I know I've passed. We go on for a little while about the DH, money-grubbing owners, and my hatred of night games at Wrigley Field. We're both pulled from our, now very loud, conversation by the sound of a boat. I look toward the noise and instantly smile at Bella and Abby as Bella slowly steers the boat into the slip.

Bella's hair is down and messy; I assume because of the wind. Abby starts to stand, but Bella says something to her, and she sits back down in the white leather seat. Abby is holding something on her lap, and I get up from my chair to walk down to help her dock the boat. I honestly don't know the proper way to tie it to the dock, but that doesn't really matter because I'm all about helping my lady.

_Wait. My lady?_

I don't even know where that thought came from and remember to put myself in check. Just because her dad and I are clearly lifelong friends now, I still have to win her over.

"Hi," I say, she smiles.

"Hi."

"Can I help you?" I ask, and she hands me a rope.

"Loop it around that a few times." She points to a metal thing attached to the dock.

"Hi, Abby." I do as Bella instructs as Abby says hello and moves toward the side of the boat. Abby is covering whatever she's holding tightly in her arms with a towel, and I lift her out of the boat. "What's that?"

Abby looks toward Bella then back at me. She has a huge grin on her face. "Something," she giggles.

"Okay," I reply then offer my hand to Bella as she steps out of the boat. I'm too late because she already has a hold onto the side and doesn't need my help. I'm trying to be inconspicuous as I hover both of my hands around her just in case she trips and needs to use my waiting arms to break her fall.

"She has a surprise for you," Bella states, her eyes widen exaggeratedly, and I cock my head.

Abby grins, nodding her head. "Wanna see?" she asks. She's got to be the cutest kid I've ever seen. Her glasses are sitting a little cockeyed on her nose, and I adjust them.

"You have a surprise for me?" I ask.

"Mmhmm."

"Come on, Abs. Why don't you show Edward what you got _especially_ for him on the porch so Grandpa can see, too."

Bella stifles a laugh, and I look at her warily. She barely shakes her head, tucking her hair behind her ear, silently telling me not to say anything.

As Abby runs ahead of us, Bella leans close to me and is about to say something. I clench my fists because of her close proximity. She has no idea of the thoughts that have gone through my mind over the past twenty-four hours, and as much as I want her to be close to me, she can't be. I will ruin any chance I have of having something, whatever that something could be, with her by acting on impulse. "If you don't want to break a little girl's heart, just go with it," she politely warns then pulls away.

I loosen my fists and continue walking. "Should I be nervous?" I whisper.

"I don't know," she admits, but her voice is light.

My mind wanders, and I think about the kinds of things that live in marshes: snakes, frogs. I can handle a frog, but a snake? Not so much. Bella is unquestionably not the type of girl who squirms around slimy things, so the possibility of her and Abby trapping something that either croaks or slithers is not that far-fetched.

Abby is standing by my surprise and I prepare myself for the worst as she removes the towel. I squat next to the plastic and mesh container to get a better look. Thank god it's not what I imagined. There are three dragonflies inside the cage – two of which are attached at the tail.

"See, you don't have to be scared of them, Edward. They're pretty and look, those two are dancing." She points to the dragonflies which are definitely not dancing.

Charlie clears his throat behind me and quickly tends to the grill. He throws the fish on; they smoke and sizzle when they hit the hot iron plates. His shoulders are shaking from laughter.

"Wow, Abby… you're right, sweetie, they are very pretty." _And horny_. "Thank you." I look up at Bella and she's chewing on her thumb nail, her eyebrows are raised. Abby is staring into the cage, and I mouth "They're having sex," to Bella.

She shakes her head, teasing me, and whispers, "No, that's the Salsa."

_She has a sense of humor. _We stare at each other a beat too long, and Bella quickly looks away.

"You're welcome," Abby replies. "You can take them back home with you."

"I can?"

She nods.

"Well, I thought about getting a dog, but I think this is a much better choice," I say, and Abby starts to laugh. Bella moves the cage off the table, and I ask Abby if they have a special diet or need to be walked. Abby laughs again; Bella rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.

"You should do that more," I say to Bella as I sit down.

"What?" She sits across from me and unscrews the cap of her beer.

"Smile."

Bella moves so her shoulder is resting against the back of the chair and looks toward Charlie. She takes a pull from her bottle, and she's expressionless, but she's not mad. I take this as a good sign.

/*/*/*/*/

Dinner was fantastic; Charlie is a great cook. The Mets won by one run; this is not so fantastic. Throughout the game, Bella, Charlie, and I took turns either yelling at the television or insulting the Mets' pitcher. I safely sat in a chair far enough away from Bella and stole more than a few glances of her as she sat on the end of the couch, her feet curled under her; I was surprised I didn't get caught.

Bella puts Abby to bed - she fell asleep during the eighth inning - and Charlie excuses himself, stating he needs to get up early for a charter the following morning. I thank him for dinner, and he invites me back to watch another game before I leave. It's Wednesday - I'm leaving Sunday, and I didn't realize until just now that Sunday is the Fourth of July.

I've never been one who gets excited over the holiday, but in this moment I'd chew off my right arm to be able to watch Bella's and Abby's faces light up while they watch fireworks.

I'm standing in the hall, holding the cage containing my new pets which are no longer screwing each other, and ask Bella if she wants to sit on the porch with me before I leave. As crazy and impossible as it may be, I'm almost positive I've dreamed about her, or at the very least, her likeness. Not often, though, and I don't remember specifics either.

"Sure," she says; I'm elated.

She points to my arm. "How is it?" she asks as we sit on the step outside.

I haven't thought about it all night. "It's fine."

"Did you take your meds?"

I cringe. "Oh, no. I forgot. Thank you for getting them, though. Can I start tomorrow?"

She tsks. "Yeah, but try to stay out of the sun." Bella continues to explain the hazards of antibiotics and sunburn. She's kind of adorable giving me medical advice.

"Are you working with your dad tomorrow?" I ask. Both of us are staring straight ahead, and I pluck a long blade of grass from the ground then wind and unwind it around my fingers.

"No, I'm not working again until Saturday. How's your book coming along?"

It's awkward between the two of us, that much is evident. However, small talk is better than none at all.

"I haven't written a single word since I saw you on the beach." The truth is Bella has wholly consumed my thoughts. And it's quite possible that any and all rationale I might have had is completely lost.

"Oh." She leans against her thighs and plays with the small beads attached to her flip flops. "Is that all you do? Write books?" She quickly looks at me and scrunches her nose. "I didn't mean is that _all_ you do… sorry."

"I didn't take it that way," I assure her. "Um, no, I haven't actually written one in its entirety, not yet, anyway. I work for a newspaper." I'm not sure if I should be embarrassed by what I do for a living or not, but I do hope she doesn't press further.

"So, you're a reporter?"

_Shit_.

"Not exactly… I write obituaries." I screw up my face, waiting for her reaction. So much for charming.

"Huh. Okay, well… that's… not what I expected at all," she chuckles. "I mean I just assumed… I don't know – not that." I laugh, and throw the blade of grass off to the side. "There's nothing wrong with that; it's a very important job," she continues. Her cheeks are fiery red now, and I move my elbow to my knee, propping my head up with my hand. I don't say anything because the backpedaling is very entertaining. "How else would people know how many children so and so had, or-"

"Bella, it's okay. My job sucks."

She nods, running her hand through her hair; most of it falls to one side of her head.

"So, the dragonflies," I start, and we both smile. "Abby's a very thoughtful little girl."

"She is. I tried to convince her to draw you a picture, but she insisted on going to the marsh – there's a ton of them there. She doesn't fully understand what happened today or could have happened, but I can almost guarantee she won't try to cross the street by herself anytime soon." Bella looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers before looking back at me. "She's my whole world, Edward. Thank you, again."

"You're welcome."

It's quiet for a few moments, and then out of the blue she asks why I do what I do if I don't like it. I tell her my reasons for taking the job, and she seems to understand. We talk a little more – she asks about Chicago, and I cover the basics: the wind, the pizza… the nothing of importance – more small talk.

It's getting late and she yawns, but I'm not ready to leave. What if this is the last time I see her? I swallow thickly. Sure, Charlie invited me back for another ball game, but that's him, not her. What if she doesn't want to show me around the Keys? I haven't asked her anything about her yet. We've really only talked about me… barely.

She stands and faces me, and I know it's my cue to leave.

I stand then blurt out, "Let me take you and Abby to breakfast tomorrow. You said you're not working. Do you have plans already?" _Please don't have any plans._

"Oh, um, I-"

I bend my elbows, showing her my arm and hand. "I'm left handed, and I don't know if I can properly re-wrap my arm." I'm so very lame, and I have no problem owning this.

She narrows her eyes at me. "What does that have to do with breakfast?"

I drop my arms then reach out to take her hand. "Nothing." My heart is thumping inside my chest. All I have to do is tug her hand and pull her close to me.

"You don't give up, do you?"

I shake my head, still holding her soft hand in mine. She doesn't pull away, and she's not angry or annoyed. Another good sign. Her skin is soft, warm and precisely how I imagined it would be. I squeeze it softly.

"Is there something you want out of this?" she asks quietly. She's so direct. Bella gently pulls her hand from mine, shoving both into her pockets. I curl my fingers against my palm as if to hold onto the warmth left in my hand from hers. My feet feel as though they're cemented to the ground. She wants honesty; she deserves at least that much.

Again, I shake my head. "Nothing dishonorable, I swear. I just want to know you. Please, have breakfast with me."

Bella studies me, staring at my eyes. She's brave, holding my gaze the way she is, and it's very attractive to me.

"Please?" I ask, or beg rather.

"One meal," she concedes. Her demand is firm, yet her face is soft.

She's beautiful.

"Just one meal?" I repeat.

She nods, drawing her lips inward. "Mmhmm."

I could promise her that, but I won't. "Okay… for now."

/*/*/*/*/

A/N: Slooooow burn. Thank you all so very much for reading, alerting and reviewing. I am more than thrilled how well this little fic is being received.

The baseball part is for mycrookedsmile. She was my willing advisor regarding the designated hitter as well as Wrigley Field. Thank you, bb.

Now, this coming week I'm tweaking and finishing up my piece for FGB. That means I won't be able to update Dflies for possibly two weeks – sorry!

Enjoy your week and hope to see you soon.

~T


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to get these guys rolling again, but they're back. For those who have been reading this fic, thanks so much for waiting.

Also, thanks to coldplaywhore, aciepey, sncmom, and askthemagic8ball for reading and fixing stuff. They're better than a Costco size pack of Kleenex.

* * *

BPOV

"What does..." She stops then sighs. Abby's thinking hard about what she wants to ask as I brush her hair. I'm standing behind her, watching her reflection in the mirror. Her face is serious; there are a few little crinkles between her eyebrows. After setting the brush on the bathroom counter, I thread her hair into a long braid then secure the end with a pink elastic band.

"What, Abs?" I ask.

"I can't remember the words."

"You can't remember what you wanted to ask me?"

"No, the words from Edward's book."

I tilt my head in confusion.

Abby turns around to face me. "He wrote a lot of stuff in his book and he let me read it on the beach. Remember?"

I nod, but I'm not sure why she's just bringing this up now. "Have you been thinking about what you read in his book? Were there a lot of big words?"

"Yes. He wrote 'love' a lot, but it wasn't like a story. It was boring, and I didn't understand it," she says, flatly. "Do you think it will get better?"

"Um, I don't know. Why are you thinking about this now, anyway?" As I pick up the brush and rake it through my damp hair I wonder what Edward's book is about – I didn't ask last night, and think now, maybe I should have. I should definitely ask today. He doesn't have kids – what if what he deemed appropriate to read really wasn't for a seven year old? I'm not going to press for more information from Abby; if she doesn't remember, all the better because I really don't want to have an embarrassing conversation with her right now.

She shrugs. "I don't know. I just am." Abby carefully runs her palms over her hair. "How do I look?" she asks as if she's going out on a date. I laugh and shake my head.

"Gorgeous as always." She's all toothy with her smile and starts to walk away.

Sounds of nasally singing and boisterous laughter followed by a series of boings and crashes come from the television in the other room and resonate loudly through the hallway. I yell for Abby to turn down the volume as I rifle through my closet, searching for something to wear. She does but only minutely. I'm distracted, borderline agitated, because all I can think about are the few seconds Edward held onto my hand last night, how it felt for someone to touch me like that again.

For the first time since Riley died, I didn't look forward to going to bed the night before. Going to sleep had always meant there was a small chance I'd see Riley again, but last night the feeling of being alone was overwhelming.

I like Edward, and that scares the hell out of me.

I settle on a pair of denim shorts and a red tank – shorts and tanks are the staples of my wardrobe, so it's not as if I have a lot to choose from. Besides, it's just breakfast, and Abby is coming. It's not a date. It's only a meal.

I don't date. Edward is a friend… nothing more.

Abby is sitting on the edge of the couch; she looks stiff, and I ask her if she's okay. She tells me she doesn't want to mess up her hair. My heart sinks a little. She really likes Edward, and she's going to miss him when he leaves. I shouldn't have agreed to go out with him this morning. If Abby didn't already know, I'd call him right now to cancel. But she does, and he's going to be here any minute.

Our front door bursts open, then Jack charges in followed by Alice.

"What's goin' on, chica?" she asks, slamming the door behind her. The straps of her bathing suit peek through the collar her t-shirt and an oversized bag is slung over her shoulder. "You're not ready." Alice dumps the bag on the floor then yells for Jack not to jump on Abby. It's too late, though; the two of them are laughing and wrestling on the couch. Abby doesn't seem too concerned about her hair now.

"Ready for what?"

"We're taking the kids to the beach today."

"Um, no, that's tomorrow." I point to the calendar on the refrigerator.

Alice cranes her neck. "Oh, shit, sorry. Well, so what. Go put on your suit and let's go anyway." She moves around me then opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water. "Hey, Abs! Wanna go to the beach?"

"We can't," I interject, leaning back against the counter.

"Why? What are you doing?" She sips her water then fluffs my hair. "You look pretty."

I glance at the clock; Edward should be here any minute. "Abby and I are going out for breakfast… with Edward." I scrunch my nose, waiting for her reaction.

Alice licks her lips before she slowly curves them into a half smile. "Oh."

_Oh. _Perfect.

"Mmhmm." I clear my throat then walk past her toward the living room.

Alice slaps my ass then whispers, "You can thank me later." She looks toward Abby. "Hey, Abby. Jack and I are going to have ice cream for breakfast, and then we're going to see what Jasper found diving yesterday." She taps her chin, looking toward the ceiling. I know what she's doing, and she's _so_ dead. "I think it was a piece of a Queen's treasure, but I'm not sure. Do you want to come with us? I think Jasper could use your opinion."

Alice ignores my glare, nodding her head toward Abby in encouragement. Jack hops off the couch, tugging Abby by her hand. "Let's go, Abby. My mom never let's me have ice cream for breakfast."

"_Really?_" I hiss at Alice. She winks then quickly kisses my cheek.

"Really."

Abby's eyes are wide; she wants to go, but she's hesitant. There's a knock at the door, and Alice sashays toward it, mumbling something about wondering who it could possibly be.

Edward walks in; he looks either surprised or confused, but he's polite. He's always polite.

I smile a hello to him and then tell Abby if she wants to go with Alice and Jack, she can.

"You're not coming?" Edward asks her, and she's really torn – I feel so badly for her.

"I don't know," Abby answers. Half of her braid is undone, and she smoothes her little hands against her hair. I explain the situation my best friend has put my daughter in as I re-braid Abby's hair.

"Oh, well," he starts, "you won't hurt my feelings if you don't want to come with your mom and me. In fact, if it's okay with your mom, maybe I can take you two out to dinner tonight." Edward bites his bottom lip, slowly lifting his eyes toward me.

"Can I?" Abby twists her body to look up at me.

"What happened to one meal?"

"Dinner is one meal," he answers.

Just as I'm about to say something about his inability to add, Alice interjects.

"Now that that's settled, let's go you two." Alice picks up her bag off the floor then leads Abby and Jack out the door.

Edward shoves his hands in his pockets as soon as the door closes and shifts from one foot to the other. There's an awkward silence between us now we're alone.

But it's not a date. He's just a nice looking guy who's taking me to breakfast, so no awkwardness required, right?

Taking a deep breath, I smile at him. "So," I say.

"Looks like it's just you and me." His grin is wide and cheesy.

"Guess so. That was pretty sneaky of you… the dinner thing."

"Persistent, not sneaky, there's a difference," he says with a serious look on his face.

"Is there?"

Edward nods toward the door, and I grab my keys and bag off the table. "Yeah, there's a _huge_ difference between the two."

"I had no idea. Thanks for clearing that up." It's hard not to play along with him, and I roll my eyes as I lock the door behind us.

"No problem. Just…" He shakes his head and laughs to himself.

"What?" I ask as he walks me to the passenger side of his Jeep and then opens the door. As I climb in, he hangs on to the top of the door.

"I was going to say to call me anytime you needed something."

He pauses for a second before he shuts the door, and I watch him round the front of the Jeep, twirling the key ring around his finger. If he held the door open for a minute longer I think I'd have said that I would call him. And this surprises the heck out of me.

Edward starts the Jeep without a saying a word; I don't say anything either, and what was awkward silence between us earlier is now uncomfortable, for me anyway. There's a strange feeling in my stomach, and I have no idea what to do about it.

I remember again how it felt when he held my hand last night and decide there's no way I can think of him in any other way besides a friend. Maybe these feelings are there because he saved Abby from being hit by a car. Isn't that normal? To confuse feelings of gratitude and… _like_? After breakfast, I'll see him again for dinner, and then that will be it. I'll tell him tonight that it's silly for him to pursue me, that I'm not interested because that's what's best for both of us. But until then I'll just be myself, and I'll definitely not give him any mixed signals.

We've pulled out onto the highway. The sun is really hot, reflecting brightly off the ocean, and I wonder if he's wearing enough sunscreen because it's really going to suck for him if he's not.

"Did you take your antibiotics?" I ask. He glances over and nods. "Are you wearing enough sunscreen? Because if not-"

"I am." He smiles, and I realize I probably sound like his mother.

Maybe that's a good thing, to sound like a person with whom he'd have no other interest besides of the platonic kind. Is that even the right word when thinking of parents? Platonic? No, that's not right. I can't think of what the word is… and what the hell is wrong with me? Who cares about the correct word? My thoughts are never this nonsensical. Ever. I'm thinking too much again. Either that or I've just discovered that I'm slowly starting to lose my mind. This shouldn't be so hard.

Looking at Edward, he's glancing between me and the road. "You okay? You look like you were trying to solve a calculus problem in your head or something."

"Did I? No… I was just wondering where we're going," I lie, but I don't think he believes me. My hair is flying all over the place, and I pull a few pieces away from my mouth. I wish I had pulled it back before leaving; it's going to be a mess by the time we get to wherever he's taking us.

Edward grins; he's staring straight ahead at the road now, and he shakes his head.

"You're not going to tell me?" I ask.

"Uh uh."

"You don't know your way around – what if you get us lost?"

Edward shifts gears then passes a car which is moving slower than my grandmother… walking… with her walker.

He's smiling again and looks at me from over his new sunglasses. "Would that be the worst thing in the world?" he asks. His chin is dimpled – it's kind of cute. Edward pushes them back up his nose then focuses on the road again.

"It might be," I reply.

"Why's that?" he chuckles.

I shift in the leather seat so that I'm facing him then gather as much of my hair as I can and hold it with my hand. "What if we end up in a place with no restaurant? Or a gas station? We could run out of gas driving around, you know. I hear these things have really bad gas mileage. We'd have to walk for miles until we found something."

"Hmm. I hadn't really thought about that." Edward reaches across my knee, his forearm barely grazing it, and I jump, but he shows no signs of noticing my reaction. Instead he opens the glove box, pulls something out then closes it again. "Here," he says and tosses me a pack of gum. "We won't starve."

I lightly scratch my knee; the tingling sensation is subtle, but it's there, and I decide to ignore it. I hold the gum out. "Cinnamon?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

"Edward, cinnamon gum does nothing for your breath. Now I know we can't be friends." I unwrap a piece and pop it into my mouth. He holds out his hand, and I drop another piece on his palm.

"What if I don't want to be friends?" he asks, staring straight ahead.

I don't say anything for a moment and turn away from him to look out the open window.

"Actually, don't answer that now."

/*/*/*/*/

"Quid pro quo," he says, tossing me an apple. He's packed fruit, muffins, and juice in a Styrofoam cooler. We're at Big Pine Key, and I wonder if he knows this particular island is flooded with Key Deer. Maybe he does and thought it would be fun for Abby, and if that's the case, Edward is proving to be very considerate.

"What, like we each get to ask any question we want?" We're sitting cross-legged facing each other on one of the blankets he took from his hotel room. I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees as I turn the stem of the apple back and forth.

It reminds me of when I was a little girl. My friends and I used to say a letter of the alphabet with each twist of the stem. Whatever letter we said when the stem finally came off was supposed to be the first letter of the name of the boy we were going to marry. I huff a quiet laugh at the memory.

"What?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. Just thinking about a silly game I used to play when I was a kid."

"Do you like to play games?" Edward bites into his apple then slides his sunglasses to rest on top of his head. He squints from the brightness, completely closing one eye.

"Is that your first question?" I laugh.

"No." His mouth is full. He wipes his bottom lip with his thumb as he swallows. "Favorite color?"

"Starting off easy? Okay… orange. What's your book about?"

Edward grins. "A soldier who comes back from Iraq to find his wife with someone else after everyone thought he was dead." He continues to describe the events he has planned for his book, but it's heartbreakingly romantic – not at all what I expected.

"You're a romantic at heart?" I ask.

"I never thought I was before, but yeah, I guess I am."

"Abby asked me about the notes or whatever it was you have written in your notebook. You let her read it the other night, remember?" He nods. "There isn't anything in there that a seven-year-old shouldn't have read, is there?"

"No," he laughs. "Just notes like you said. Ideas… Would you like to read it sometime?"

Yes, I think I do. I'm curious, really curious about him now, but that doesn't matter. I'm going to stick with the plan.

"Why don't you mail me a signed copy after you're published," I say, and he agrees. "So, back to the game."

Edward leans back on his elbows. "My turn? Okay, let's see… biggest fish you've ever caught."

I smile. "Are you sure you want to know that answer? I wouldn't want to embarrass you seeing how you struggled with your catch the other night."

"Funny girl," he says. "Don't worry about it; I'm very comfortable with my masculinity."

"Um, okay… You know the sailfish hanging in Rudder's?" He scrunches his nose, trying to remember. "Make sure you take a look if you go there again - sixty-seven pounds, about two years ago."

"Liar." He laughs. "I think you're just trying to make me look bad."

"No, I did! I swear!" He sits up, and I lean forward. "It was bigger than this," I say, spreading my arms as wide as I can. "But… Emmett helped me reel him in."

"I don't think that counts."

"It counts. It was on my line, so it counts."

"If you say so," he says, and clearly, he doesn't understand the laws of fishing.

"I do. Trust me."

"I will."

"You should."

"I do." He laughs.

"Good." I shake my head at him; he's funny. "My turn… if you were stranded on a deserted island, what two things would you take with you?"

"Hold on. _That_ is an assumption – I thought this was a real, down and dirty, honest Q and A thing we were doing." I open my mouth to interrupt, but he holds up one finger. "_And_ people get three choices, not two."

"What someone would take with them to a deserted island speaks volumes about said person, and it's my question, so I'm giving you two items. Be creative, Mr. Author, sir."

"Two?"

"Two." Edward stretches his arms over his head and cracks his knuckles. "Tick tock."

"Hey, if you can change the rules to the most basic question, I'm calling no time."

I roll my eyes, but it's too bad he can't tell since I'm wearing sunglasses. "Fair enough… but you can't have any contact with anyone or anything off the island."

"You can't keep changing the rules!" he teases.

"Geez, fine. Whatever two things you want - now, go."

"My laptop and a fishing rod."

"You'd starve."

"How? I'd have a rod."

"No matches or a lighter? How will you be able to cook the tiny fish you catch?"

He lifts his hands, palms up. "I'd rub two sticks together. And I'm sure," he says, now stretching his arms as wide as he can reach, "my fish would be bigger than this."

We go back and forth with a few more easy questions, none too intimate. Because I'm really curious I want to know more about him. It's safe and friendly. He's told me the basics: his parents' names, his birth date, and he knows the same about me.

We're quiet for a few moments. There's a slight breeze ruffling the palm fronds above, the water laps at the edge of the beach, and I'm drawing circles and wavy lines in the sand with my fingers as he sits up again. Edward shifts closer and moves his hand near mine. He follows the patterns I've drawn, and when he swirls his finger over one of the curves it against brushes mine. I pull my hand back and stare down at the sand. Every little touch feels like it's intentional.

"Can I ask another question? You don't have to answer this one if you don't want to," he says. Edward reaches toward my sunglasses. "May I?"

"Okay," I say, removing my sunglasses before he can – he's close to me now, but I don't pull away. I should, but I don't. There's a look on his face that's so familiar. His expression, it's hesitant, but there's something more, like there are a million things running through his mind. And his eyes, they're so green right now from the sunlight peeking through the trees above us.

"I wanted to know if it would be all right if I kissed you."

He doesn't move forward or even flinch, Edward is just watching me, gauging my reaction. He's waiting for me to say something, but I can't. My heart begins to pound, and I don't know if I'm supposed to be angry or offended or what because I'm neither of those things. Shouldn't I be?

It doesn't matter because… "I can't," I say and put my sunglasses back on.

As I stand, he does too. "Bella, I'm sorry. It's just that… I don't know." He mutters something to himself, and we pick up the blanket and pack up the cooler. "That was way too forward of me. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," I say as he shakes the sand from the blanket. I don't know what to do so I pick up the cooler and head toward his Jeep. I feel like I need to get away from here as fast as possible otherwise I think I'll start to cry.

We're silent on the ride home, and after we pull up to my house, Edward hops out of the Jeep to walk me to the door. I don't give him a chance to say anything more and I hope he already knows that dinner is off.

There's no way I can see him again.

"Bella," he starts, but I raise one hand to stop him as I simultaneously unlock the door.

"It's okay, Edward, really. Not a big deal." My voice sounds shaky to me, but I feign a smile as I step into the house. "Thanks for today, and good luck with your book. Have a safe trip home," I tell him quickly, the words running out of my mouth fast and without pause, and I close the door before he has a chance to say anything.

I'm leaning with my back against the door practically holding my breath, waiting for the sound of him starting the engine. It seems like it's taking him forever to leave, but when he finally does it's like everything I've held in for the past four years just pours out of me.

These stupid tears are relentless, and I cannot stop crying. It hurts, everything hurts: my stomach, my head, my heart. I want to stop; I don't understand why, but I just can't. As I sit on the edge of my bed, I'm ugly crying – hiccupping, snot and tears run down my face, and I feel like I can't breathe.

I didn't hear them come in; Alice sits on my bed next to me, her expression horrified.

"What happened?" she asks, her voice frantic as she puts her arm around me, but all I can do is shake my head. "Bella? Honey. What the hell is going on? Did Edward to something? I'll kill him if he did."

"No, he was…" I start ugly crying again.

"He what?" She jumps up and runs into the bathroom, coming out with a box of tissues in her hand. She pulls out too many and shoves them at me. "Bella, talk to me!"

I take a few shaky breaths, trying to calm myself. Alice is squeezing my shoulder with one hand and rubbing my knee with the other.

"I don't know where that came from," I say, drying my face with a few tissues. "Where're Abby and Jack?" I don't want either of them to see me like this.

"In the living room, divvying up shells." She trades me clean tissues for the dirty ones. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

I tell her how everything was fine, that we were having a nice time talking. "And then out of nowhere he asked if he could kiss me. I said no, he apologized for being too forward, but I couldn't get home fast enough, and I told him goodbye."

She screws up her face and looks completely confused. "Is that why you were crying like that? Because he asked if he could kiss you?" I shake my head. "Well, then why?"

Only now does it dawn on me. "I wanted him to, Alice. I wanted him to kiss me. I miss what it feels like, and there's something about him. He's kind and funny and sweet, but he's leaving and even if he wasn't… I'm so, so scared."

"Oh, honey," she says, wrapping both arms around me. "You can't go through the rest of your life by yourself."

"But that's not even it, or maybe it is, I don't know. I _like_ Edward, and I'm afraid to because then it's like I'm saying goodbye to Riley. I can't do that again, Alice."

The tears start all over. After a few minutes, Alice tells me she's going to check on the kids and get them settled with a movie. When she comes back, she says she's called Jasper to pick them up, that he's on duty for the rest of the day because she and I are going to spend the rest of the day eating or sleeping or drinking or whatever it is that I want to do. She tells me not to worry about Abby, that Abby and Jack can have a sleep-over at her house, and we'll have our own.

We end up doing all of those things and have thrown in a little bad TV here and there too. By the time the sun finally goes down, I'm exhausted, stuffed, and a little drunk. She's apologized for pushing me to go out with Edward, but she also said she's not giving up on me either. I know what she means, and I love her for it. I'm going to get past this sometime, but not right now. Today is not that day.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Betas and prereaders are better than… big plans. Askthemagic8ball, coldplaywhore, sncmom, and aciepey, thanks, ladies. Love you long time.

* * *

EPOV

I'm a fucking idiot.

And a moron.

And a complete ass.

I'm like Mark McGwire taking that first shot of steroids – fucking up a good thing.

I can't believe I just shot my chance, albeit remote, all to hell because I couldn't help myself. Things were going so well. She was relaxed; I was relaxed, and she was just so pretty sitting across from me. The way she smiled and how she played with the stem of her apple, even the look of concentration she had on her face while we were driving to Big Pine Key was beautiful. She really did look as though she was trying to solve a calculus problem in her head, simultaneously knitting her eyebrows together, wrinkling her nose and biting at her bottom lip. She was beautiful.

We were having a nice time, talking and laughing. She even asked me to send her my book should it ever be published – should I ever finish it. Didn't that mean something? Wasn't that some sort of positive hint that she was going to be around or something?

Apparently not. She was only being polite.

"Stupid."

I'm packing up my things, throwing my clean and dirty clothes into my suitcase. Checkout is in an hour. I'm not going to bother to call a place in Key West. I'll just go with my original plan and see where I end up.

"Fuck."

That's the last thing I want to do, though. I want to go back to Bella's house, apologize again, and explain to her that I'm not solely interested in something physical. Of course, I wouldn't use the word "solely" to her, but I'm not going to lie to myself and pretend that I don't want to touch her and kiss her and, God willing, make love to her one day. It feels wrong to think that way, but it's not. At all. Everything about her is so right, and we would be so good together.

I've never been religious before, but I swear I'll welcome a little Divine Intervention and then, I don't know, pay it forward somehow, somewhere, just to get my foot back in the door with her.

For the second time in as many days, I think about calling Jared or my dad again for advice. But do I really want to do that? Do I want to open that can of worms especially if it doesn't work and this really is it for Bella and me? I sure as hell don't want to deal with the incessant questions that are sure to fire from the mouths of Jared, my dad, _and_ my mom when I get back home.

Home.

Chicago.

I'm flying out in three days.

"Fuck."

I flop down on the edge of my bed. What am I thinking? We live… I'm not sure, and I pull out my laptop to Google the distance between Chicago and Tavernier. I don't know how reliable this website is, but it's telling me the distance is 1,445 miles. I feel completely and utterly deflated.

Closing my laptop, I toss it next to me on the bed. I sit here for a long while, staring at a chipped knob on the dresser which sits a few feet away. For some reason, seeing that number is like a wake up call. We may as well live on different continents because honestly, who wants to start a long-distance relationship with someone they've only known for four days? Besides, after I walked her to her door, she spoke so fast, pushing me away with her words, that she couldn't wait to get rid of me.

But I'm still drawn to her, and deep down I think she just might be drawn to me too.

Rising from my bed, I walk out onto the balcony and lean against the railing. I take in the smells, sights, and sounds around me, and I just think. I ponder the hurdles and the consequences. Over and over again, I ask myself if I want to get involved with this woman who happens to have an amazing little girl. But each time I'm around Bella, especially after this morning, I fall just a little bit harder, and each time I come up with the same answer.

I do.

The problem is, can I convince her?

Mark Twain once said, "Necessity is the mother of taking chances." Well, he's right, and I begin to devise a brand new plan.

/*/*/*/*/

The small bells ding as I push open the door to the souvenir shop. It's midday. The store isn't crowded save a few people meandering through the aisles who probably just want to get out of the heat. I'm not sure if the heat and humidity are something I'd ever get used to, but I'm not opposed to the idea either.

Behind a counter stands one of the girls I spoke with when I bought the hermit crabs for Abby: Claire or Leah – I can't remember which. When she sees me, she waves and asks how I'm doing.

"Pretty good," I say.

"Enjoying your vacation?"

"I am, thanks, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

After a few minutes, I realize I've been speaking with Leah. I also learn she's not a huge fan of the Cubs considering the shit she gives me for wearing my lucky Cubs cap. It's okay, though, not everyone can appreciate the art of good baseball – well, by my definition - discussing stats is not why I'm here. I point to items hanging around the store, and explain what I'd like her to do. She laughs and tells me I'm out of my mind, but this is something I already know. Leah taps a few keys on her keyboard then shows me a mock-up; it's perfect. I hand her a piece of paper with the instructions I've written, and she tells me she'll have everything ready later tonight. Leah turns out to be pretty fantastic, and I'm able to easily forget her less than enthusiastic remark about Lou Piniella.

I swing by Rudder's to grab a bite to eat and am relieved to see that Liz is here because my plan won't work without her help. I purposely sit in the same booth as I did on the day I arrived, the one where I first met Abby and saw Bella, in hopes of continuing that luck, or perhaps changing it for the better. As Liz walks toward my table, I rub the brim of my ball cap between my thumb and forefinger – it's tradition. Well, mine anyway.

She takes my order, and after it's ready Liz slides into the seat across from me after bringing me a burger the size of a small car. I tell her everything that's happened up through this morning. She's easy to talk to, and she's been nothing but encouraging. Best of all, she doesn't think I'm insane, or at least she doesn't let on that she does. I ask Liz specific questions; she teases me because I'm taking notes as she supplies the answers without any hesitation. I explain it's my job to take notes, like second nature, obits or not. Liz offers some suggestions of her own and admits to being a sucker for romance. I believe it after what she's offered. I hope Bella is, too.

The sun has shifted and now hangs over the Gulf. In a few short hours the surfaces of the two will kiss before one is entirely enveloped by the other; I'm jealous.

I hadn't realized how long we've been talking, and I still have a few things to tackle in order for my plan to work – Charlie being one of them.

"You wouldn't happen to know when Charlie is supposed to get back from his trip, would you?" I ask, sitting back in the booth.

Liz glances at her watch. "He's on a half trip today, so I imagine he and Emmett will be swinging by for a beer pretty soon," she says, and I nod.

I'm vertically balancing a spoon between my finger and the table. I'm scared shitless Charlie will have nothing to do with this. "Do you think he'll go for it?"

"Maybe," she says, shrugging which gives me little to no hope. "Look, don't worry about that. I'll take care of Charlie." Liz winks, scooting out of the booth. "I need to get back to work… I don't think you'll need it, but good luck anyway."

"Thanks, but I think I do."

As Liz walks into the kitchen I drop the spoon and pull my cell phone out of my pocket. I'm probably going to need more time, and I scroll through my contacts before finding the right number. It takes a minute to connect, and Gianna picks up after the third ring.

"G, hey, it's Edward from obits." I cringe, hating how that sounds.

"Hey, Edward! Aren't you on vacation?"

"Yeah, listen, is Marcus around?"

"Oh, sure, hang on for a sec."

Gianna, Marcus's assistant, puts me on hold, and while I wait for him to pick up I'm listening to the absolute worst Muzak rendition of The Beatles _Yellow Submarine _I've ever heard. This song is doing nothing to calm my nerves. Marcus isn't one to extend vacations – I was barely able to get his approval for this one. Anxiously, I drum my fingers on the wooden table.

"Edward?" he answers finally. "How's the aunt?"

My aunt? And then I remember the story I told him to get the week off in the first place: my non-existent aunt who is sick and needed help – my help. This is perfect.

"Not so good, I'm afraid. That's why I'm calling; I'm-"

"No."

Damn.

"No?"

"No can do, Edward. I need you back here bright and early Monday morning."

"Marcus, she's very sick… no one else in my family is able to come down, and I'm already here… just a few more days," I ask and hope he can here the sincerity I try to muster in my voice. I feel badly for lying, but isn't the end worth the means?

"I'm really sorry about that, but Collin royally fucked up yesterday's obit section. He confused three deaths, and I spent most of the morning putting out those fires."

You've got to be kidding me. It's not rocket science, but then again Collin Jacobs has trouble finding his way back to his own cubicle. Still, how hard can it be?

"Can I do it remotely?" I ask. "Have Gianna email me the details. I'll do the write-ups from here and email them back… I just need a couple more days, and I'm back in the office by Wednesday at the latest. I'll even take time off without pay." Surely, he can't say no to that.

He pauses for a few moments; he's thinking about it – he has to be. "Are you going to come clean or are we going to keep playing this game, Edward?"

"Sorry?"

"You can thank Jared for spillin' the beans on this one, kid. It wasn't intentional, I don't think, but he was saying something to Gianna about lying on the beach and drinking margaritas with her when your name came into the conversation, said you were livin' it up down in the Keys, and it wasn't fair that they were stuck here. That kid has a really loud voice… Is it true?"

"Marcus, I'm-"

"Monday. If you're not here, you're fired."

The line goes dead before I can say anything more. For once in my life I'd like to quit a job before being fired. I'm thirty-four. It's embarrassing.

I'm sure Bella wouldn't mind dating an unemployed loser at all. Before I feel even more sorry for myself, a tiny voice says my name.

"Edward!" Abby hops up into the booth and sits next to me. Her big brown eyes, her mom's eyes, are shining brightly even through the lenses of her glasses. And I swear this little girl is like a breath of fresh air. "What are you doing here?" she asks. Jasper and Jack slide in across from us.

I say hello to Jasper and Jack before turning back to Abby. "Well, I needed to talk to Liz about something. What are you doing here? Did you have fun at the beach today?"

"Uncle Jasper brought me and Jack for fries." Her smile disappears into a frown, and I ask what's wrong. "We can't have dinner tonight," she tells me, and my heart sinks into my stomach. Not because I thought for a second dinner was still on, rather the disappointment that shows on her adorable face makes me acutely aware there are three people involved in my plan and not just two. I wonder what Bella has told her. She takes in a deep breath. "I'm having a sleepover with Jack and Aunt Alice is having one with my mom."

I look toward Jasper; he quirks his brow as he leans back and hangs his arm over the top of the seat. He's pissed.

Jasper and I silently exchange words: I'm saying I'm sorry while imagining he's calling me an asshole. Again, I wonder what Bella has said. Jasper swiftly places his hand on top of Jack's head; the kid is bobbing it from side to side as though he's got his own private jam session going on.

He tries to maneuver out from under Jasper's steady hand, but then Abby firmly says, "Jack. Stop." And he does. Just like that. I'm amazed at the power these women, Bella and Abby, have over the opposite sex. Maybe only Jack and I are affected, and I suddenly have the urge to empathize with a five year old.

"Why don't you two go find Liz," Jasper suggests, and they take off. "But don't run in the kitchen!" In a flash, they're gone.

"Am I completely screwed?" I ask – might as well get straight to the point.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "What's your deal, man? Why do you care? Are you just lookin' to get laid, 'cause if so, head on up to Miami, tons of chicks up there."

He was definitely calling me an asshole.

"No. It's not like that."

Liz approaches the table with Jack and Abby in tow; they're both wearing aprons five sizes too big for them. Liz asks if we want a couple of beers.

We say yes at exactly the same time, but it's the way we say it: no smiles, no emotion, just a flat "yes," and Liz clearly knows something is going on. She looks back and forth between us, and within a minute, she's brought us two ice-cold beers.

The condensation beads and drips from the bottles; I wipe the side of mine as Jasper takes a swig from his. "So," he hedges. "What's it like then? I mean, yeah, the girl is hot, so I get it, but dude, I'm wondering where you're comin' from."

"I like her."

He shrugs.

I need him on my side, and I take a long pull from my beer. I get he's protective over her – his girlfriend is Bella's best friend. Hell, everyone in this little town is tight. It's not hard to figure out they all watch out for each other.

"A lot. I like her a lot, and I know that probably sounds crazy considering I barely know her."

"Yep," he says and continues to stare me down. I had hoped he'd give me a little something, but nope, nada. He's not giving me an inch.

Fine. If that's the way he wants to play it, I'll share, and I'll probably get knocked down a few pegs in the manhood category in the process. After all, it's not like I don't already know I'm going to make a fool out of myself within the next day, so what more do I have to lose?

"There's something there, and it's not because I want to get laid – that's the farthest thing from my mind. Bella's special, and I can see that. The way she looks at Abby and smiles when she doesn't know anyone is looking. She's feisty and cautious at the same time. She's smart and funny… Dude," I pause and take off my ball cap, toss it on the table, then scrub my hand through my hair as I lean forward. This is the part where A) he'll think I'm a pussy or B) he'll think I'm a pussy. Truthfully, I don't really care. "I'm meant to be with her. I feel it, and I might have dreamed about her before I actually met her." I mumble the last part, but Jasper says nothing. "I can't stop thinking about her, and there's no way I'm going to let her slip through my fingers."

Picking up my hat, I tap it against the table, waiting for him to say something. But I have a feeling I already know what it will be.

"What happens when you go back to Chicago? Are you gonna fly in on weekends? Holidays? She's a mom, dude. It's all or nothing."

I should be a mind reader, although it's not like anyone with a vested interest in Bella wouldn't come to that conclusion anyway.

"If that's how it works, then yeah. But I'm not naïve, Jasper. I understand that if Bella and I work out like I hope we will, I'll do what needs to be done."

He's thoughtful for a moment and takes another drink from his bottle. Liz brings two more beers and a plate of fries to our table. I'm not hungry at all and offer him the plate through a nod. After Jasper shoves a few fries in his mouth, he pulls his cell phone from his pocket and sends a text. He still hasn't said anything to me, but when Abby and Jack come back to the table he gives them a few dollars. He tells them it's going to be just a little while longer before they leave and to play pinball for a few minutes. They both sigh dramatically, and I smile as Abby drags Jake by the hand toward the back of the restaurant.

"Riley was my best friend," he says. "When he died, so did a part of Bella. A big hole was left in all of us, but especially her. She was a mess for a long time, man. There were days when she couldn't even take care of Abby. We were close before, but after the accident… we all just got even closer." He shakes his head and chews at the inside of his cheek for a moment, like those memories are still fresh.

I'm quiet and wait. None of what he's telling me is surprising, and all I want to do right now is wrap my arms around Bella; I just want to keep her safe.

Jasper clears his throat. "But that was a long time ago, so I'm going to be straight with you. She likes you, too."

I smile. Big. "She does?"

"Yeah." He laughs. "Alice gave me the low-down. She's just scared is all, so do me a favor and don't fuck her over. Bella is like a sister to me, and I love her like one, but Alice? Man, the girl is like a freakin' hurricane when she gets pissed, and if you upset Bella, then she'll tell Alice and so on and so on… do you follow me?"

"I do," I say, leaning back in the booth. I refuse to let the fact that I've now been threatened twice, once with a promise of death by drowning, take away from the best news I've heard all day. Actually, I'm a little giddy because knowing that Bella likes me is probably the best news I've ever heard. I smile again and look back at Jasper. "So, how 'bout helping me out?"

"With what?" he asks. "Bella?"

"Yeah."

"You want me to plead your case?"

"No… well, yeah, that'd be great, but I have something else in mind… Liz and Leah are already in on it, but I need Charlie too – I haven't talked to him yet. Liz said he should be coming in soon, and I hope she's right because it's going to be hard to talk to him if he doesn't show."

"If she said Charlie will be here, he'll be here," he says, smirking. There's something more he's not saying. It's written all over his face, like it's an inside joke.

Curiosity gets the better of me. "How can you be so sure?"

Jasper looks around, leans forward, and quietly he says, "Charlie and Liz are seeing each other. They don't think anyone knows, and I don't know why they think they need to keep it a secret, but…" He shrugs and sits back as he drinks his beer.

"Huh. Does Bella know?"

"Pssh. Everybody knows."

"Okay. Well… good for them, I guess… So… you in?"

Jasper looks at his watch and glances toward Abby and Jack. They're still playing pinball, well, Jack is, but Abby seems to be completely bored. She's resting her chin in her hands against the game, her expression verging on grave.

"Sure. But, dude, this better not backfire on me," he jokes.

Half-way through telling Jasper my big plan of woo, Charlie and Emmett arrived, just as Liz had said they would. Soon after that, it seemed as if half of Rudder's had gathered around the table. Some, or more specifically Emmett, thought I'd been out in the sun too long, asking why go to so much trouble. But to me, I'm hoping it's only the beginning.

I'd noticed Liz and Charlie exchanging furtive looks, nods, and subtle smiles as I explained; they were definitely together. I still wonder why all the secrecy, though. Regardless, it's none of my business, and I have other things to worry about.

It's late, and I can't sleep. My room is black save the small light from the alarm clock which is more of a beacon, reminding me there are still too many hours before I'll get to see Bella again. I never bothered to unpack and told the front desk I'm staying another three nights. The girl behind the counter asked if I was sure this time. I told her "No." The weight of this working out and then having to go back to Chicago is so heavy I can literally feel it in my chest.

I hate goodbyes.

And I don't think about the alternative.

I roll to my side, and my mind wanders. I imagine what it would be like to buy hot dogs and cotton candy for Bella and Abby at Wrigley Field when they come for a visit.

All sorts of fantasies begin to flood my mind: touring Bella and Abby around Chicago, Bella sitting on my couch in my apartment, me lying on the beach with Bella in one of the Keys, swimming in the ocean with her, kissing her… in bed and waking up at dawn with her.

Every one of them is a necessity, and I think these chances I'm going to take will be the best decisions I've ever made because if this plan works, after every goodbye there'll be a hello.

* * *

A/N: He's a persistent one. Thanks so much for reading. I don't have a posting schedule and I refuse to give any kind of date as to when the next chapter will be up. Whenever I do, something comes up and I get thrown off, so sporadic is my timeline.

I have a rec or four if you're interested:

Fluff: _The Best I Ever Had_ by whatsmynomdeplume – you guys… it's just… read it if you're not already. Be warned, though, your cheeks will hurt from smiling.

Romance/Drama: _Pressed for Time_ by twanza and chele681 – I can't say enough good things about this fic. All of the characters are so well developed and real. It's funny, sexy, brilliant, smart, sexy, and so very, very smart. It's just so good and complete.

Angst: _Torn_ by TheRainGirl – This is an AU fic that Rain has just started. There are only a few chapters posted, but it is such a delicious twist on canon and she is writing her version of how a newborn should behave. It's beautifully written, so check it out.

Angst/Romance: _Moment in Time_ by yogacat – A o/s written for the Never Ever HEA contest. It's just gorgeous and sad and so touching all at the same time. This Bella and Edward have a few hurdles, but they can't deny each other. Ugh… so good.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks so much to my betas and prereaders: coldplaywhore, aciepey, sncmom, and askthemagic8ball. They're better than fairy tales.

Still don't own a thing.

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BPOV

When I was a little girl, my mom and I used to curl up together in her huge bed and hide and giggle and count how many seconds it took before the thunder rumbled after the lightning struck. I loved the early morning storms, too hard to tell what time it was because the sky was so dark and brooding – like now. I'd run into her room, and she'd always have her arms outstretched waiting for me. We'd yelp when the lightning flashed; she'd tickle me and we'd count between giggling.

I miss her.

_One… two… three… four…_

I'm cocooned in my blanket and I stare out of my window. Lightning strikes. It illuminates and shadows the palm tree that's just feet away from our house. Storms don't scare me from this vantage point, no matter how sudden and strong they start. I feel safe inside my four walls, looking out through the window at the possible danger. If I hold my covers around me tightly enough and if I stay right where I am, nestled in the familiarity and the comfort, there's no way they can touch me.

Alice traipses into my room and crawls into bed with me. "Rise and shine, cupcake," she says.

"I'm awake."

"Feeling okay?" The bed dips and shakes as she settles herself behind me, but I continue to stare out the window.

"Yeah. Yesterday was just… ugh. I'm an idiot."

"Sometimes," she teases, and I reach back to smack her. We're both quiet for a bit, watching the rain pound at the window. "Some storm."

"Some storm," I repeat. "It'll be over soon, and in an hour it'll be like it never even rained."

"And too hot."

"What time is it?"

"A little after ten."

"Do you think Abby and Jack are driving Jasper crazy yet?"

"Nah, but I do have to get going. Jasper's going into the shop. Here," she says, handing me a piece of paper. "Charlie left you a list of things to get for Sunday."

I take it and look at the words on his list, but none of them are really sinking in. We're going to Founders Park to watch the fireworks after Charlie gets back from his trip. All of us will be there, just like we are every year: Rose and Emmett, Alice, Jasper, and Jack, Liz, Charlie, and me and Abby. The beach is always packed, but the sky is so open over the ocean that there isn't a bad place to be to watch the show. My mind wanders, and I wonder what it must be like to watch fireworks in a city, if all the lights and buildings get in the way, if Edward has any idea how beautiful a rainbow of explosions look against an entirely black sky. He keeps creeping into my thoughts, even after I tried to push him out of my mind last night.

He's probably already in Key West, but I need to call him to apologize for yesterday. He asked if he could kiss me, and for a second I thought I was going to say yes. I felt a tiny pull toward him, but I panicked. He must think I'm a basket case - maybe I am - but he's too nice a person to have a door slammed in his face no matter what the reason.

"I'll follow you to your place to pick up Abby," I say, rolling over to face Alice.

"No rush. We don't have anywhere to be, and if I know Jasper, he's probably turned our entire living room into a fort. I don't think Abby will mind hanging out for a couple more hours." She laughs, and I smile because I know this is true. She holds her cell phone in front of her, scrolling, and then shows me the screen.

_**Dude's legit**_

"What's that? Who's legit?" I ask.

"Edward is. It's a text from J from last night. Seems they had a few beers together at Rudder's."

He's still here. Or at least he was last night. My stomach tightens, and not in an _Oh, crap. He's still here_ kind of way, either.

"Is he… did he go to Key West this morning?" She shrugs and eyes me for a second. "Why did you show me that text, Al?"

Alice scoots off the bed. "Don't know, really. I guess I don't want you to second guess his intentions, you know? So you don't think he was another guy just trying to get into your pants."

"I never thought that," I protest, sitting up. She turns and cocks her head to the side. "Okay, maybe a little at first, but-"

"Just call him so you don't beat yourself up later."

"Why would I beat myself up?"

She smiles and puts her hands on her hips indignantly. "Because that's what you do, Bella."

"Whatever," I mutter, rolling my eyes, a small smile forming. "I was already planning to call him anyway."

"Good," she says, and I stick my tongue out at her. Alice hugs me goodbye. "See you soon."

As I lift and snap the comforter to lay it flat on my bed, the room instantly brightens from the sun. The storm is over as quickly as it came.

If my mom were still alive I'd ask her what to do about Edward. She'd tell me to jump in with both feet, to spread my arms wide and scream all the way down because falling for someone is like jumping off a cliff into the water below. She had said those exact words once, and that was exactly how I felt when I met Riley. She had also said to jump off cliffs as often as possible. My mom never got to meet Riley, but I know she would have loved him. I'm pretty sure she'd like Edward, too.

/*/*/*/

Charlie's to do lists are nothing if not precise. I lean against the kitchen counter, skimming over it once again and laugh. Like I don't know what kind of beer he drinks or what size t-shirt he wears – we're wearing semi-matching patriotic shirts for the Fourth. Silly? Probably. But it's what we do, and Abby gets a kick out of it. His requests are endearing, though, especially the specific type of candy he wants me to pick up from Leah and Claire's store. It's like he thinks we need to have a huge supply of essentials (yes, peanut clusters are as vital as Miller Lite is to him) as if we're going to some remote island for several days when we're only going to be a few miles away from our house. But that's just how my dad is. Maybe it's the sailor in him, I don't know.

Underneath my keys is an envelope. My name is written on it with handwriting I don't recognize. I don't pay too much attention to the fact that an envelope has mysteriously appeared on my kitchen table that was obviously put here sometime last night or this morning by someone who may or may not be my dad or Alice. The idea slightly creeps me out. Alice didn't mention anything before she left, but she probably didn't see it. Suddenly, I remember we're supposed to meet with Mr. Jameson next week. He runs the marina where we dock our boat. The lease on our slip is up in August – we're going to extend it, but he mentioned there would be a few minor changes in the contract, which my dad has left in my hands. I'll bet that's what this is, and that Charlie left it for me.

But it's not.

And, at first, I'm utterly confused.

_It's said that the Chinese believe the dragonfly represents prosperity and luck. _

_I_

_Once upon a time, a man traveled on the wings of a powerful bird over many lands in search of these things. He believed luck would be brought forth from the air and the sea thus giving him a prosperous mind. The man was not interested in material things as the word prosperity would suggest. Instead, he'd hoped to be enlightened. _

_After many hours, the man found himself again on land. He stopped at a welcoming tavern to nourish his weary body, for his journey was still far from over. He indulged himself in the food and drink the town had to offer, this town so unlike his own. He enjoyed the friendly people he encountered, noting how the sun had bronzed their skin. Again, he thought, so unlike his own. As he allowed the salty air to surround him and the sound of waves lapping at the shore to ease his tired head, he was approached by a beautiful child. Her eyes were big and shiny which reminded him of a priceless coin his father had gifted him long ago. The girl's hair looked as though it had been spun from dark golden silk, and the man couldn't help but smile at her approach. The girl spoke freely to the man - no matter that he was a stranger in her town; she showed bravery and trust which, to the man, seemed like an impossibly peculiar thing to expect from someone so young. He soon discovered the girl possessed insurmountable bravery._

_The man was suddenly attacked by a flying beast with huge wings that spanned several feet, evil, black eyes that bore into the depths of his soul, telling him death was near. The man envisioned a bloodbath, his own blood being spilled, and his quest finished before it had begun. But before the beast could open its jaws any wider, and most likely shoot fire from its angry mouth turning the weaponless man into its meal, the man reacted swiftly, swatting at the beast with one hand. The flying, hairy beast fell to the ground, tumbling toward the feet of the young girl. The man felt powerful and was certain the girl would thank him for saving both their lives. However, he was mistaken, and instead of erupting into smiles, tears fell from the girl's shiny eyes. _

_You can imagine how confused the man was by her reaction. Commotion ensued as the man attempted to console the beautiful child. Could this be a pet of hers? he wondered. Surely not, for what child would want to tame a creature of this nature? The man worried not only for the girl's broken heart at the loss of her pet but also his own safety – the townspeople may not take kindly to a stranger upsetting one of their own. _

_During the ruckus, a young woman appeared out of nowhere, like magic, enveloping the girl into her arms. It was the girl's mother. When the man looked at this woman, something sparked inside him, he'd never before seen a woman more lovely than she. _

_Of course, the man apologized immediately and repeatedly, hoping the woman with hair the color of roasted chestnuts and the same big, shiny eyes as the child would understand and forgive him, but alas, she did not. The man surmised the woman was a protector of sorts and would do anything in her power to shield her brave child. Still, the man would not allow the girl and her mother believe he was a killer of children's monstrous pets, although, he did feel quite proud to have taken down an enormous beast with his bare hands. No, he would gift them both with decadent sweets and replace the girl's pet with one which was less violent so that he may grovel for their forgiveness. _

_Lo and behold, the man was successful with his gifts. The woman's father, a great and legendary sailor, invited the man on his ship so they might battle creatures of the sea thus allowing the man to be able to see the woman yet again. The man was confident the woman's father thought him worthy of such perilous opponents as the two shared a love of an ancient sport played in a diamond shaped arena with wooden sticks and white balls – he'd hoped the woman would eventually think the same, that he be worthy. Although the woman showed hesitancy after receiving her gift, the man could not wait for the coming day. When he boarded her father's vessel the following evening, he was mesmerized by the view even at night, but nothing compared to the woman - she took his breath away with her smile. _

"What are you up to, Edward?" I say to myself, smiling, peeking inside the envelope. I shake it, looking for more, but, obviously, there's nothing. After a quick glance around the kitchen, I don't see any more envelopes and I'm a little disappointed.

Edward's voicemail comes on after the first ring, and instead of leaving a message, I decide to try again later so I can actually talk to him. I'm not sure what I want to say, though. This whole thing with him is, well, I don't know what it is, but I'm confused as hell.

I read the story he's writing for a second time. He's funny and smart and…

And I took his breath away.

Alice claims to know nothing.

"You're lying," I say to her, smiling, holding Edward's story in front of her.

We're standing at the edge of what Abby and Jack call _The_ _BFG_ Island. Sheets and blankets are knotted together, draped over a bunch of chairs and their couch. Somehow Jasper managed to peak the middle so their island actually looks like a huge tent. It's impressive. Abby and Jack haven't come out aside from poking their heads out to say hi when I walked in.

"I have no idea," Alice says. "Really." She knits her eyebrows together and hardens her mouth.

"What's that face?"

"What?"

"That!" I laugh and point, mimicking her, and then she starts laughing. "So, you're really not going to tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell. I don't know anything about it."

"About what?" Abby asks, crawling out of the tent.

"Nothing, sweetie." Her hair is sticking out everywhere, and she's wearing a bright blue t-shirt that has "Southpaw" written across the front of it. I look at Alice and then back to Abby. "Abby, where did you get that shirt?"

"Um…" She looks down at her shirt and then toward Alice.

"It's mine," Alice says. She shakes her head – just barely – at Abby. "I forgot to pack her clothes last night."

"Oh, really." Alice is small, but there's no way this shirt that fits Abby perfectly is hers.

"Really."

"Interesting choice of shirts, Al."

"_I_ thought so."

"I'll bet," I say. "Abs, go grab your stuff – we have some things to get for Sunday." Jack bursts out of the tent; he has "Deep Dish" written on his shirt. He takes off after Abby. "Subtle."

"Hm?" Alice begins to tear down _BFG_ Island. Jack screams NO! at her, and she drops the sheet, raising her hands in surrender.

"The shirts – they're very subtle. Did you know Edward is left-handed?"

"So?"

"Southpaw? Left-handed pitcher? Baseball? He likes it?" She's still feigning indifference, and I sigh. "Deep dish? Hello? Chicago pizza?"

"Coincidence."

"Uh huh. So what about this story? What happened to you being sorry for pushing me to go out with Edward?"

"I'm not pushing a thing," she says. She walks toward me; our teasing is gone. "Stop thinking so much. Just go with it."

There's a seriousness to her tone, but her expression is soft. Alice has been there for me countless times; I feel like I'm sucking her patience dry. I fold Edward's story and stuff it back into my purse. Abby is waiting quietly at the end of the hall. She has a raggedy stuffed gorilla in one hand and her bag in the other. "That's a good color on you. You look pretty," I tell her. She smiles as she straightens her glasses. "Go with it?" I say to Alice; she nods, and I take a deep breath.

/*/*/*/

"What time is it?" Abby asks.

"About noon." We're walking down Garden Street on our way to buy sparklers.

"Okay." She digs into her tiny purse and hands me an envelope which has been folded a few times so it would fit. "Here, Mommy."

My name is hand written across the front; it's the same as the other. "What's this?" My daughter seems to be good at keeping secrets. I wonder if Edward promised her anything if she agreed to play along. Funnily enough, I think it's kind of sweet.

"I don't know," she singsongs, giggling.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"Hmm. Maybe I should look at this later; I'm a little hungry. Are you?"

"No, Mommy! You have to read it now." Abby sticks out her hand. "Give me some money, and I'll get you an ice cream from over there."

I look toward the ice cream shop a half block down. There are benches outside the doors. "Ooo, ice cream sounds really good. Here… I'll take a chocolate. What are you going to get?"

"I'll get chocolate, too."

Abby, grinning so big, walks into the store as I sit down. Pretty soon, I'm smiling as big as Abby was.

_II_

_What a surprise for the man when he discovered how physically strong the woman was! Not only did the woman possess beauty and wit (which he'd discovered after conversing with her on the deck of the ship) but to also encompass the strength of ten men… or women? Well, this woman was certainly unlike any other the man had ever encountered. A massive fish clamped its mouth mercilessly on the hook of the man's line yet the woman showed no signs of worry. Amazed, he watched as she effortlessly pulled it from the angry sea. She won the battle, and in celebration the man invited her out for drink the following morning. She agreed; he was ecstatic._

_The woman and her daughter showed the man around their small town. The three shared sweet treats, and the woman introduced him to a pirate who had a room full of gold. Before they parted ways, the man became filled with dread. This couldn't be the end of their journey. How could he tell this woman about the distinct pull he felt toward only her? Surely, she'd think him insane if he admitted she visited his dreams before they'd even met. No, he wouldn't do that. Perhaps… he'd tell her another time. Perhaps he would do so as his final effort to gain her trust. Before the man could say any more to the woman, something terrifying happened. The beautiful child had found herself in danger. The man's heart was in his throat as he ran to snatch the child into his arms and away from the threat that could have caused her harm. The man felt horribly for the child and her mother, but thankfully, the child was uninjured._

_With caring hands, the woman tended to the man's insignificant wounds. He added compassion to her growing list of attributes. He'd learned a degree more about her as she washed away the little blood and plucked pebbles from his arm; she was easy to talk to. _

_That night they feasted generously on the fish the man had caught. _

_It was during this feast that the beautiful child unexpectedly rewarded the man. Beasts. Not one, but two of the same creatures the man had fought only days prior. Would he ever be free from this terror? However, and much to the man's relief, these particular flying fiends were contained and much smaller than the slain one. He was humbled by the girl's kindness. After studying them for a little while, he saw their wings were iridescent and quite spectacular. The man now understood the child's fascination; he'd thought perhaps he could learn a thing or two from the child. Throughout the feast, the man stole furtive glances at the woman. He noticed the soft curve of her shoulders and counted five freckles on the left one; he couldn't see how many might have been on the right. If he had, he'd probably memorize those as well. _

_Before he left for the evening, he held the woman's hand in his. He wanted to touch her hair to see if felt as soft as he'd imagined, but the man remained reserved, for he knew the woman's heart belonged to another. One day, perchance, there would be room for him._

I look down at my shoulder: five freckles. I close my eyes for a second and imagine what it would be like if I had let Edward kiss me.

"Mommy?" Abby asks, snapping me from my thoughts. There's a spot of chocolate on her chin, but more on her shirt. I was about half-way through reading when she came out and handed me a cone. Mine is now gone and she's practically wearing hers. Her eyes are huge; she's upset that her shirt is dirty.

"It's okay, baby. Those spots will come out in the wash."

"But I wanted to wear it all day. Edward gave me this shirt and now it's dirty!" She gasps because she realizes she's just flubbed the secret… this secret that apparently everyone in Tavernier is in on because one of the guys who is a regular at Rudder's is walking by wearing an "I love the Cubs" t-shirt.

He nods in our direction. "Bella. Abby."

"Hi, Joe," we say; he smiles and keeps on walking.

I point to him with my thumb after he passes. "Did you see that?"

"What?"

"Mr. Joe was wearing a Cubs shirt."

Abby grins. "Edward likes that team."

"Yes, he does." I look back at Joe; something clicks, and then I playfully narrow my eyes at Abby. "Abby, did you plan this stop for ice cream?" She zips shut her mouth and throws an invisible key over her shoulder. Abby looks back down at the chocolate stains. "Don't worry about your shirt, baby. Edward is a really nice and understanding person. I don't think he'd mind if you got a little bit of ice cream on it. In fact, I bet he spills all the time." She giggles. "You know what? Let's call him right now and ask."

Voicemail again. I still don't leave a message, but I have a feeling Edward knows I'm calling. What would I say anyway? _Hi, Edward. This is Bella. I'm not exactly sure what you have up your sleeve but I'm finding it awfully sweet and slightly romantic._

Not slightly, more like incredibly. Who goes to these lengths? Now I feel like an even bigger jerk for slamming the door in his face.

I redial his number. "Hey, it's Bella… Listen, about yesterday, I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have ended the morning like that… and… I just finished part two - I'm looking forward to part three." That's enough, I think – I don't want to say too much just yet, but my palms are a little sweaty thinking about seeing him later. I'm sure I'll see him later, right? That's got to be part of this elaborate scheme. If not, I'll figure something out. I don't want him to go back to Chicago without seeing him first.

Putting my phone away, I ask Abby where we need to go next. She reminds me that we were on our way to buy sparklers and then to Leah and Claire's store. She's wearing this determined expression and she looks so much like Riley right now, chocolate covered chin and all, that I feel a small pang of guilt. I wonder about something that I haven't given too much thought: What if he was still alive, and it had been me who died? Would he be able to let me go? I'd like to think he wouldn't. Is that selfish? I'd want him to be happy, though.

I can almost hear Alice telling me in an exhausted voice to shut up and just go with it. So I do.

Claire is wearing a shirt with "Wahoo" written across her boobs (so very Claire), and Leah's reads "Old man and the See what you've done to me?" I compliment their shirts, and they play dumb. I ask Leah about her shirt specifically because it seems really un-Edward-like. But I get the picture: everyone is pulling for Edward.

"What?" she asks. "I think it's catchy."

"You should coin that phrase, Leah."

"Can't – someone already did."

"Oh, yeah?" I ask, pulling out my wallet. "Does that person happen to be from Chicago?"

"Nope."

My smile falters as I hand her some cash; she bags our shirts for the Fourth. "So it's not Edward?"

"Geez, Bella. Got Edward on the brain or something?"

"No. It's just-" Leah hands me my change along with another envelope.

"Haha." My smile is back. Butterflies have seemed to move into my stomach somewhere between seeing Joe and walking through the front door of the store. "Thanks."

"Uh huh. Hey, Abby, we have new hermit crab shells. Wanna see?"

"Yeah!" Abby runs behind Leah to the other side of the store.

_III_

_The man found himself alone with the woman on a deserted beach. The scorching sun beat down upon them, but they found respite underneath the shade of tall trees which swayed gently in the breeze. He unpacked a bountiful assortment of fruits and breads, spread the delicacies atop a blanket, and offered her a red apple. The man couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world at the moment. Her company was all he wanted. _

_Once upon a time, this man set forth on a journey. Countless seasons could have passed, his surroundings ever growing, ever changing, and morphing into something unrecognizable as to what they once were; ages upon ages could have gone by, and not once would he have presumed he'd meet a woman so lovely, this woman who had somehow taken over his thoughts so suddenly. But he did, and it was now unmistakably clear to him that his journey had changed. _

_He spoke with her contentedly as the sun shifted in the sky; the ocean ebbed and flowed, leaving traces of weightless foam along the pale sand. The woman humorously shared tales of the sea to which he laughed. Her smile could light up a thousand skies, and the man was entranced, falling like he'd never had before. Could she ever feel the same? Oh, how he hoped she would._

_A kiss. This was a notion dizzying to the man, yet he thought there was not a better moment to seek her permission to do so than now. A simple kiss, he thought, would bring him closer to her. And although he was sentient of her circumstance, he spoke truly and only from his heart. _

_He asked. She said no, but he understood._

_Defeated was the man, you ask? For a short time, yes._

_However, he would not give up, for deep down he knew she was worth pursuing; nothing would convince him otherwise. And so, the man invited the woman to meet him at the same location where mystical, flying creatures had first brought them together at precisely four hours past noon._

…_to be continued? _

When I look up, Leah, Claire, and Abby are staring at me expectantly.

"Well?" asks Claire.

"How fast can you make a shirt for me?" I ask. "I… I have a date."

* * *

a/n: Next up, Edward's pov of the big date. Thanks so much for reading.


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